


No One Compares With You

by flowersinthebackyard



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Romance, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-30 10:13:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14494707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersinthebackyard/pseuds/flowersinthebackyard
Summary: Isabel Garcia didn't expect to make friends when she moved out to London, much less meet the Beatles. But between the budding tensions within the band and the mystery surrounding a surprise visitor, she quickly realizes she's in for the ride of a lifetime. Together, they attempt to fight their demons of the past while dealing with the uncertainty of the future. Alas, real life -- much like real love -- is complicated.~~Begins in 1966~~





	1. Chance Encounter

One could say Isabel Garcia was a bit evasive. Uncomfortable with even the slightest lingering of eyes in her direction, she was someone who much preferred to observe things from the outside. Because of this, she relished in any opportunity to seclude herself and disappear into the background. Alas, much to her distress, it was hard for her to completely avoid attracting attention. Indeed, with long, flowing hair, vast brown eyes and a naturally curvy body, any efforts to remain utterly elusive would always eventually prove to be futile.

The streets of London still felt foreign to Isabel, despite the fact that she had already been residing in the inclement city for two months. There had certainly been opportunities, quite a few within that time span, for her to explore her new setting; but any desire she had to vacate her tiny niche in Señora Rojas' cottage at dawn would virtually dissipate by dusk. And as darkness would fall every night on her windowpane, her spirits would instantly follow suit.

 _"You can't just waste your life's precious days staring out at the sunset, mija,"_ Señora Rojas would sternly remind her. _"You need to go out and live them..."_

Now, however, as she stood amidst a bunch of people in a bustling coffeehouse, the sweltering summer sun just beginning to blaze through the dusty windows, Isabel began to feel claustrophobic. Her transatlantic move now felt frighteningly more real as everyone mindlessly ordered their drinks in their thick accents. Clutching her head, she felt the room begin to spin around her. The unfamiliar sights and sounds were all enough to make her feel dreadfully out of place, even more so than usual.

"What'll ye have, miss?"

There it was. The vague churn of the stomach. The slight twinge of apprehension she felt every time she was forced to make a social interaction. She warily looked up at the bloke behind the counter. He looked as gravelly as he sounded.

Isabel bit her lip and surveyed the list of drinks, what was the quickest thing to say on the menu? She didn't want to waste anyone's time giving the facing board anything more than a cursory glance.

"I'll just...take it black," she mumbled, her eyes darting to the floor.

"As you wish, ma'am,"

Heaving a huge sigh of relief, Isabel's tense body began to relax. At least _that_ inevitable, nerve-wracking experience was over with. Now came another one. Quickly, she scanned the area for a suitable place to sit. _Ah, there we go_. A nice little spot in the corner, away from the others. As she sat down, she prayed to God no one would take a seat beside her.

With her long, dark hair now nearly covering her entire face, Isabel waited for her coffee in a listless daze. Through the cracks in her strands, her partially obscured eyes keenly observed the patrons surrounding her in the venue. In all truth, people-watching was what she did best and she got quite a bit of enjoyment out of doing it.

Within a moment, her eyes met his. Isabel had been relatively content up until this point, assured that she had not yet been noticed. However, it soon became clear that her attempt to blend in, to be unseen, had once again been fruitless. She _had_ been seen. And his presence could not be ignored.

She had caught his eye from the moment she walked through the door. He stood, transfixed, coffee in hand, as he watched her from afar. _That bird, she's quite lovely._ He thought.

Just then, _Look Through Any Window_ by The Hollies started playing on the radio. Grinning madly, he began to whistle along. His heart melted a bit when he saw that she was smiling too, though not necessarily at him.

As the music played, Isabel continued to people-watch. The same bustling crowds that had caused her such unease a few minutes earlier now all seemed like interesting individuals to her. The mood and the lyrics of the song seemed to fit the scenery perfectly.

 _Look through any window, yeah_  
_What do you see?_  
_Smiling faces all around,_  
_Rushing through the busy town._  
_Where do they go?_  
_Moving on their way,_  
_Walking down highways and the by-ways_  
_Where do they go?_  
_Moving on their way,_  
_People with their shy ways and their sly ways_  
_Oh, you can see the little children all around._  
_Oh, you can see the little ladies in their gowns, when you_  
_Look through any window, yeah,_  
_Any time of day_  
_See the drivers on the roads_  
_Pulling down their heavy loads_  
_Where do they go?_  
_Moving on their way,_  
_Driving down highways and the byways_  
_Where do they go?_  
_Moving on their way,_  
_Drivers with their shy ways and their sly ways_  
_Oh, you can see the little children all around._  
_Oh, you can see the little ladies in their gowns, when you_  
_Look through any window, yeah,_  
_What do you see?_  
_Smiling faces all around,_  
_Rushing through the busy town._  
_Where do they go?_  
_Moving on their way_  
_Moving on their way_  
_Moving on their way_

Then, her wandering gaze briefly locked with the same staring eyes yet again. There was, no doubt, something strange about that man. He wore a peculiar mustache, and the jury was still out on whether or not he was wearing a wig. Though slightly unsettled, she didn't want to let this put a damper on her outing.

All of a sudden, she was jolted by the sound of a gravelly voice: "Miss! Your drink is ready!"

"Hold on, dear, don't move. I'll get it for you!" the strange man cheerfully offered, proceeding to take the mug from the counter.

Isabel immediately got up and walked towards him, "Oh, you don't have to--"

He lifted his hand as he earnestly waltzed in her direction, "Please, I insist..."

As she tried grabbing the cup, Isabel suddenly tripped and lunged forward. Momentarily alarmed, she grabbed onto the man's unsteady shoulders for support, resulting in coffee splashing all over her blouse.

"Not too graceful on heels yet, are we, pet?" he cracked with a light, nervous chuckle, instantly regretting his poor comedic timing.

 _Smooth move, McCartney..._ the man chided himself as he wiped his brow, flustered.

Isabel's heart throbbed painfully in her throat, her face burning. If there was ever a time she wished she could be completely invisible, it would definitely be now.

"I'm s-sorry, sir..." she stuttered out, fighting back the acidic sting of her tears.

"No, no, darling, _I'm_ sorry," the man replied softly. "Come, let's get you out of here..."

Gently guiding her by the hand, he and Isabel swiftly exited the scene.

~~~

After making their way into the underground public toilet, the man promptly wet his handkerchief and encroached on Isabel's space.

"Here, let's get you cleaned up..." he hummed as he lightly dabbed the wet cloth on her chest.

"NO!!!" Isabel screamed, suddenly hyperventilating. "Don't touch me!!! Don't come any closer!!!"

Subconsciously, she began to rock her body back and forth, hugging herself for protection. However, within a moment's notice, the rocking subsided.

"...Man, we really got off on the wrong foot, didn't we, pet?" the man noted as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

Isabel said nothing in response, she merely looked down as her breathing slowly returned to normal.

"Listen," the man began in a calm, serious tone, "I know I'm a perfect stranger to you, and I know you don't have any real reason to trust me, but is there any chance we could start over..?" he meekly held out his hand.

Isabel looked up and blinked gingerly at him, staring blankly into his hazel eyes. There was something warm, kind and oddly familiar about those eyes. Lord knows she had been longing for something familiar ever since she first moved into this city...

Finally, she reached her hand out to him and allowed their fingers to touch for an ever so brief but meaningful moment; the kind that makes your heart stop upon contact.

"Yes," she stated in a quiet, yet affirmative voice. "I think we can do that."

"Fab!" the man let out a relieved chuckle as he beamed with wild gratification. "Tell you what, dear, why don't you go in that stall and then hand me your blouse so I can properly wash it. Then, once it's done drying, we can go back to the coffeeshop, grab a seat and really get to know each other. Would that be something you'd like..?"

Isabel nodded and gave a small, shy smile. "First things first, though, do you have a name? I think I'd like to know that before I hand you my blouse..."

The man guffawed and wiped a tear, "That's a perfectly understandable request! Friends call me Paul...and what might your name be?" he flashed a grin, showing all of his teeth.

"Isabel," Isabel mouthed softly.

"Isabel..." Paul echoed under his breath. "That's a beautiful name, darling. Almost as beautiful as your face. And you're a funny bird too, aren't you? I have a feeling we'll get along well..."

Suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable, Isabel scurried into the stall and removed her blouse, firmly locking the door in front of her.

"We'll see..." she uttered shakily.

~~~

Once back at the coffeeshop, Isabel anxiously leafed through her purse for some loose tokens. All of a sudden, she felt Paul's body shift in front of hers.

"It's on me, love," he expressed with a wink, proceeding to pay the bloke at the counter.

"Thank you..." she croaked, her mouth dry. She caught herself fiddling awkwardly with her hands.

"Why don't we sit over here? The same place where you were eyeing me earlier..." Paul once again chuckled to himself.

Isabel scowled mildly as she sat, not particularly swept away by his comment.

"So tell me, doll, how old are ye?" Paul pried, his face crinkling with delight.

"19," she replied.

"Ah, I see. Do I detect an American accent?" he asked, now more formally.

"You do," she affirmed. "I just moved here recently into a family friend's house..."

"Interesting. Do you have a family back home?"

"I do," Isabel nodded. "I have a mom, a dad and a younger brother."

"Sounds idyllic..." Paul mused, gazing at her somewhat wistfully.

Isabel felt her stomach sink at the sound of his words. By all accounts, she did have an idyllic family life. All the same, she couldn't shake the feeling that something about it was off somehow.

"May I ask where you're from?" Paul cut into her thoughts, engrossed in her ethnic features.

"My parents emigrated from Venezuela to Ohio right before I was born," Isabel explained.

Paul raised his eyebrows, as if impressed. "That's bloody remarkable, dear! But then how did you end up in London of all places?"

Isabel sighed and shrugged, "Señora Rojas worries about me, she wants me to socialize more. Somehow, she managed to wriggle me out of my parents' tight grasps and was able to summon me here..."

With a bit of a sad smirk, she recalled the day her parents first dropped her off at Señora Rojas' cottage.

_Isabel stood timidly in the corner, discretely stuffing her face with mojadas. As usual, there was a party going on; a messy crowd of people she hadn't seen or spoken to in years. Every few minutes, her overly-antsy but well-meaning father would try to get her to talk to them._

_Just then, Gatita, the house calico cat, pounced eagerly onto the counter._

_"Oh, my stars, my precious!" Señora Rojas exclaimed to the cat. "You're not supposed to be out here! The poor thing's scared of people..."_

_"You're the only one who understands..." Isabel whispered as she caressed the cat's soft patched fur._

_"And how are you doing, Isabel?" a deep but gentle voice spooked her._

_She turned around to see it was Mitch, Señora Rojas' longtime boyfriend. He was an older man, nearing 60, but there was something about him that put Isabel at ease._

_"Oh, you know, I'm muddling through..." she replied with a wide, nervous smile._

_Mitch smiled back, further comforting Isabel, his bespectacled eyes twinkling. "You know, you've grown into quite a gorgeous young lady...but surely you must be aware of that by now!" he chortled lightly. "I remember when you were still a little girl in diapers!"_

_Isabel felt her face go hot, her cheeks turning a deep crimson. She couldn't help but feel immensely flattered by Mitch's attention. There was always a deep, undisclosed part of her that wanted to impress Mitch. To please him, make him proud._

_"Thank you, Mitch..." she uttered, her voice trembling slightly under her breath._

_Jolting her out of her trance, she heard her father clear his throat. "May I have everyone's attention, please?"_

_All idle conversation stopped as everyone looked up at him._

_"Today my baby makes a very big step in her life! With the help of our dear British-Colombian friend, Lupa Rojas, Isabel will get the chance to come of age in the beautiful city of London!"_

_Isabel avoided eye-contact with the crowd. She snuck a glance at Mitch, who beamed brightly at her._

_Already beginning to get emotional, her father's voice broke, "It is with a profound yet bittersweet pride that I let my daughter go, out into the great unknown!"_

_Isabel found herself clenching her teeth; Eugenio Garcia's outright, often dramatic displays of emotion, for whatever reason, never fully sat well with her._

_A bit later that evening, Eugenio said his final goodbyes to his daughter. After a painful, cringe-inducing night of him repeating the same jokes and anecdotes he recited every time, he stood before her with unshed tears in his eyes._

_"Don't forget to call us everyday!" he choked out. "And don't go dawdling with strange men! I'll always be your favorite man, right, Isabel..?" his touch lingered on her arm._

"So, how's that been working out?" Paul asked, abruptly snapping Isabel out of her daze.

"Huh!?" her eyes widened in panic.

"Your stay in London, how has it been so far? Have you been mingling about?" he snooped with a snicker.

"No," Isabel answered blandly. She swigged her drink and swallowed bitterly, realizing she had no true friends or acquaintances who truly cared what happened to her.

"Is something the matter, love?" Paul reached out his hand in concern, noticing her sudden disquiet.

In an instant, Isabel became flustered. There was something looming in her head that she wanted to express, something significant, but she struggled to find the right words; a struggle she knew all too well.

"It's just...I don't have a place in this world, a place where I belong," she sighed in defeat, wincing at how cliche and tragic that sounded.

Paul cocked his head thoughtfully at her declaration. Normally, this would have been the moment where he would insert a flirtatious line about how she had already found a place in his heart. But instead, he found himself staring deeply into her dark, expressive eyes as she stared back. There was a numbing sincerity lingering behind her statement, a quality he seldom observed in other girls.

"I'm someone who sits in a corner all day, watching everyone else live their lives," Isabel continued. "It's like there's this thick shield of glass that separates me from the rest of the world...do you ever feel that way?"

Paul rubbed his chin and narrowed his eyes gravely, causing him to look years older than his age.

"I do..." he confessed after a long pause. "I understand what it's like to always be on the outside looking in. You can have people who adore you, millions in fact, but at the same time none of them truly know you. No one can get inside your head and fully understand what you're going through. Not even the closest people in your life. I understand it more than you know..."

"Because you're Paul McCartney," Isabel blurted.

Paul's eyes widened in panic as he gripped the table and spoke in a hushed tone, "H-how did you know that..?"

"I knew you looked familiar. You look just like my record from back home. I recognized your handsome features..." she stated, carefully hiding her nimble fingers behind the coffee mug.

Paul raised an eyebrow in slight reservation. Her tone when saying this was a bit too straight and matter-of-fact for it to be flirting.

"Yes, well, just know you're not alone in what you're going through," he finally said, attempting to reassure Isabel. In the back of his mind, he wondered how many others were lonely in the same way.

"And hey," he added with an awkward chuckle. "I'd say you're well on your way to making yourself known in London. You've made quite a _splash_ so far!"

There was a slightly uncomfortable pause, in which Isabel could only respond by narrowing her eyes in vague, non-smiling amusement.

"Come, let's get out of here!" Paul suddenly said, flashing a grin at her.

"Where to exactly?" Isabel asked hesitantly.

Paul's child-like grin spread all over his face, "There's some friends I'd like you to meet..."


	2. Borderline Masterpiece

"So, where did you say we were off to again?" Isabel asked tepidly as she sat in close quarters with Paul in the backseat of a cab.

"You'll see, love," Paul replied, his boyish grin from before still not fading.

Isabel's body tensed as she did a mental recap: Here she was, a girl who never left her room, in a cab with a strange man she just met, headed towards who-the-heck-knows-where?

"Relax, love, you can _trust_ me..." Paul softly cooed as he laid a hand on top of hers.

Isabel's heart quickened as she stared down at his flocculent hand. She knows he's only doing this to put her at ease, to disarm her. Slowly, she lets out a lengthy exhale.

~~~

The sun cast a bright light upon John Lennon's bed, gently awakening him. As he slowly rose up and stretched his arms, his eyes fell on his beautiful wife Cynthia. His weary heart slightly melted at the sight of his wife resting perfectly still in a peaceful slumber, her frizzy bleached blonde hair matted all over her face. He found himself smiling pleasantly at the simple joy of it all.

Sighing, his mind went to the boy. He wasn't an amazing father to Julian, not even an adequate one, John knew this. Being a member of the most popular band in the world was taking a toll on his small family. Constantly drained and on edge, he found he had little energy at the end of each day to connect with his son.

 _Jules deserves better._ John's guilt plagued the pit of his stomach. _Cyn deserves better._

He was painfully familiar with having an absent father. That, combined with a deceased mother, always left him feeling incomplete and lesser to his peers. His Aunt Mimi did the best damn job she could raising him, but the void in his heart never fully healed. John wanted better for his own wife and son; he needed to stop pricking around.

 _No more lollygagging._ John declared. _No more messing about with other women. Why drive myself barmy trying to feed a flock of birds when I already have a Great Tit I can satisfy in the birdhouse?_

Chuckling smugly at his witty wordplay, he felt Cynthia moan and rustle beside him.

"Mmm, you're up," she purred, her eyes blinking open.

"I am," John grinned, pulling her in for a long kiss.

"You're in a good mood," Cynthia noted with a sly smile.

"Why wouldn't I be!?" John remarked with enthusiasm. "I have a lovely wife, a perfect son, and I'm making the music I love with my mates!"

"I couldn't be prouder, honey," Cynthia mused. "The moment I heard you and the lads play, I knew you would take the world by storm!"

"You called it, baby! When I write with Paul, it feels like I'm planting a garden of roses!" John uttered dreamily.

"And you know I'll tend to them every night, darling..." Cynthia murmured.

"What more could a geezer like me possibly ask for!?" John rejoiced, inching closer to her.

Cynthia's face crinkled with bliss at her incredible husband. She leaned in to kiss him again when suddenly the alarm clock buzzed.

"Aw, fuck!" John cried. "It's already noon, I'm gonna be bloody late again! Sorry Cyn, I'll try to be back early tonight! Say goodbye to the boy for me!" he hurried out the door, pulling on his clothes from the day before.

Cynthia's breath caught in her throat, "Goodbye, my love..."

~~~

"We're here!" Paul exclaimed with delight.

The taxi pulled over, at long last, reaching its destination. Peering out the window, Isabel's jaw dropped.

"Th-this is..." she stuttered in shock.

"EMI Studios. The one and only," Paul beamed proudly.

"B-but..."

"Your Spanish nanny wants you to live out your best life in London, right? What better way than to meet the Beatles?" Paul proposed, bursting with excitement.

"She's Colombian..." Isabel corrected him.

Paul chuckled a bit and shook his head, "So, are you coming? Or are you just gonna sit here?"

Isabel sucked in her breath and bit her lip, hesitantly peeking out the window once more. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Paul's eager expression.

"If you don't get your bum out of this cab, I'll make you pay the fare!" he cracked.

Releasing her breath and rolling her eyes a bit, she relented. "Okay..."

~~~

Isabel's mouth fell slightly open as she thoroughly examined every inch of the studio, taking in her surroundings to the fullest extent.

"So, what do you think, dear? Do you like what you see so far?" Paul elicited, beaming from ear to ear.

Isabel didn't answer. She merely gazed about, continuing her inspection.

"If you're not impressed as of yet, you will be when you meet the lads! Come out, come out,  
wherever you are!" Paul cheerily called out into the abyss.

"Who's the Latin Beauty?" George Harrison quietly remarked from afar as he nudged his bandmate, Ringo Starr.

"Dunno," Ringo replied with a shrug. "Do you reckon we should go over there and scoop it out?"

Silently, George nodded. They then both approached where Paul and Isabel were standing.

"Oh, there you are, finally! I was wondering where you two buggers ran off to!" Paul addressed his two bandmates with a smirk.

"Where did _you_ run off to, old bean?" Ringo countered with a wink, briefly eyeing Isabel.

"Went out for some coffee this morning and made a new _friend_ ," Paul explained, smiling suggestively.

"New _friend_ , eh?" George repeated as he glanced Isabel's way with a knowing raise of his eyebrow, his face almost expressionless.

Isabel twiddled her thumbs and looked downward, avoiding eye contact with the two strapping young men.

Before anyone had an opportunity to properly introduce themselves, John hastily entered the scene.

"Hey, sorry I'm late, lads, I--" he immediately stopped in his tracks, narrowing his eyes in suspicion at Isabel while simultaneously browsing up and down her curves.

"John, my sweet! You're here just in time!" Paul saluted.

"Well, evidently, a man who oversleeps misses everything!" John replied, sneering.

"Hello, boys," Brian Epstein greeted as he made his entrance. "We've got a lot planned for today! I've arranged a special su--oh, who is _this_ now?" his usual no-nonsense demeanor quickly turned to distaste when he noticed the strange visitor.

"Precisely what I was wondering, Bri, 'ol buddy!" John leered as he wrapped an arm around the band's manager.

"Come on, now, you're all being rude!" Paul pointed out with a slightly unnerved chuckle. "Everyone, this is Isabel. Isabel, everyone."

"She's a _belle_ , alright," Ringo snickered, to which George smirked and John flashed an incredulous look.

"Boys, we've talked about these _distractions_ that you keep bringing to the studio. Paul, you, especially. You have your fun for a day and then you leave the young miss lost and confused. It puts everyone in an awkward situation!" Brian noted indignantly.

"He's right, Paulie, just take the poor girl home!" John requested.

"Hey, now," Paul pouted. "Aren't we at least going to take the time to get to know her before we just send her off like that? She's not a hooker, for Christ's sake! Lads..?" his eyes ventured over to where George and Ringo were standing.

George shrugged, "Eh, what's the harm in her staying a few hours? I don't really mind..."

"I don't mind at all, provided she doesn't make fun of my nose..." Ringo chimed in.

"There's no use in that, Rings, I'm sure she's been doing it in her head this whole time!" John snarked with a grin.

All the men laughed, lightening the mood of the room to a mild extent.

"So..?" Paul shot a fervently pleading puppy dog look to John and Brian.

Brian sighed gravely in reply, "I've arranged an in-studio supper for us tonight. I suppose she can stay for that..."

John groaned and rolled his eyes, "Fine!"

"Gear!" Paul rejoiced gratefully, pressing his hands together in glee. "Isabel, dear, you're gonna love it here!"

Given that palpably unpleasant introduction, Isabel wasn't so sure...

~~~

Most of the supper went on in complete silence. Isabel gazed down, picking at her food, not particularly hungry, her eyes rarely leaving her plate.

The awkwardness that ensued from this was almost comical. John, George and Ringo all stared expectantly at her from the other side of the table. Paul, on the other hand, was merely pleased to be in her company.

"So..." John started in a long, drawn out tone. "Where are you from, darling? You don't look like other girls around here..."

"Venezuela," Isabel replied plainly.

Intrigued by this tidbit, John was about to push the topic further. However, he could tell from her subtle tone that she wasn't too keen on getting into it.

"Well, you're gonna have to give us more than that! That's what this damn supper is for, innit!?" he grumbled.

"John! If she wants to eat in peace, let her eat in peace!" Paul snapped.

"You're right, you're right, Paul, I'm sorry..." John quickly backtracked, smirking softly at Isabel. "But if you'd _like_ to talk, just know you're encouraged to do so..."

There was another long, disquieting pause. As Isabel gingerly finished the remains on her plate, she politely got up and discarded it in the dishwasher. Upon returning to the table, her vast brown eyes locked with the four curious musicians.

"Rubber Soul was a masterpiece," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Oh, now, _there_ you go! Now you're speaking our language!" John grinned and nodded in approval, perking up.

Paul responded in kind by gently rubbing Isabel's back, secretly chuffed that she had liked their latest album.

"...But," she continued.

Suddenly, everyone's moods shifted drastically.

"But!? Excuse me!?" Paul cried out as his eyes bugged out in shock.

"I beg your pardon..!?" John questioned sharply with the raise of an eyebrow.

"What the heck is a 'masterpiece but'?" Ringo asked in confusion.

"You guys were the ones who insisted she talk!" George astutely pointed out as he wiped a tear, succumbing to a colossal laughing fit.

"It was nice but...I felt it was lacking something..." Isabel confessed, a wry smile playing on her lips.

"Lacking something!?" John repeated in disbelief. "You've got quite some gall saying that, girl..."

"Just my humble opinion, nothing personal," Isabel shrugged, her tone light and airy. Briefly, she made eye contact with John, whose eyebrows shot up in vague respect.

Paul rolled his eyes and smirked, continuing to gently graze Isabel's back, "Whatever, love, we'll show you. Just give us some time and we'll give you an album that will kick every album that came before it square in the arse!"

"I'm sure you will," Isabel replied with a hint of amusement.

~~~

As they all stepped out of the kitchen, Isabel was immediately drawn to the setting sun outside the studio window.

"The colors," she suddenly remarked, running up to get a closer look. "It's like the halfway point between day and night! And look at those tiny speckles in the clouds! Isn't it beautiful!?"

"Yes, it _is_ quite beautiful!" Paul concurred, nodding as he looked out.

"Why don't you just take a picture? It'll last longer!" John snidely commented.

"Exactly!" Isabel cried out excitedly. "It's impossible to describe with words, that's why I have to take a picture of it!"

George and Ringo exchanged quiet sneers, relishing in what they perceived to be harmless cuckoo bird antics. Meanwhile, John stood baffled.

"Well, you know, there's a lovely view from _my_ place..." Paul crooned, wagging his eyebrows. A hearty groan from his three mates soon followed.

"Uh, Paul," John piped up loudly in concern. "Can I speak to you for a moment..?"

"Sure, John, what's up?" Paul's eyes crinkled happily at his co-writer.

"In private..." John clarified, shooting mild daggers at Isabel.

"Oh, of course, mate! Be right back, Isabel..." Paul hand lightly brushed against Isabel's shoulder, causing her to tremble ever so slightly.

~~~

"What are you doing..?" John bemoaned as the door shut behind them.

"Whatever do you mean, old chap?" Paul inquired, chuckling innocently.

"Are you sure you want to be getting involved with this girl? There's something off about her..." John noted, his face scrunching up with uncertainty.

"What? You don't like her?" Paul pouted in confusion.

"Didn't say I didn't like her," John clarified, shaking his head. "She just seems fragile, is all..."

"Just give her a chance, John, she just needs some time to warm up to everybody..." Paul pleaded earnestly.

John chuckled in disbelief, "Paul, where did she even come from? How did she get here?"

Paul smirked, "Ohio, and by cab..."

"I meant to England!" John blurted out, rolling his eyes in frustration. "Don't you think it's a little odd that she just popped up out of nowhere..?"

Paul tittered sternly, "I can't expect to know everything there is to know about her right off the bat, John, but I can already tell there's more to her than meets the eye..."

"Oh, for God's sake, Paul! You're acting like a naive yuppie, as per usual! What are you thinking? Parading her around the studio and then inviting her to stay the night at your _girlfriend's_ house!?" John retorted, his voice vehemently raising.

"That isn't an issue, Jane's not even home tonight..." Paul waved dismissively.

"You do this every time!" John flared. "You spot a bird, you get all momentarily moonstruck, and then you haphazardly discard of them. Lather, rinse, repeat. I just don't want you to unintentionally lead this pretty, young thing on and then damage her soul or some shite..."

"I wouldn't dream of doing that to her, John, this one's special!" Paul asserted.

John snorted bitterly in reply, "The last girl who came by here was the best thing that ever happened to us. And she left. Because of you."

All of a sudden, Paul's eyes twinkled with guilt and he looked down, "She didn't leave because of me. She left to go write a book or whatever. And anyway, how do we know she didn't leave because of you? You probably came on too strong and you scared her away..."

"I don't want to discuss this right now!" John snapped, rapidly losing his composure.

"...Come on, John," Paul softly implored. "Something tells me I'm into something good with this girl..."

"Oh, so you're quoting Hollies songs now..?" John questioned with a smirk.

"It's Herman's Hermits...but she likes the Hollies!" Paul amended with a small smile.

"Well, at least she likes _some_ music..." John chortled lightly, rolling his eyes.

~~~

After a painfully long moment of George and Ringo awkwardly keeping Isabel company as she stared blankly out the window, Paul and John finally stepped out.

"So, what do you say, my dear?" Paul chivalrously offered. "Would you like to stay the night at my place..?"

Isabel's heart leapt in her throat. Spending the night with a random stranger didn't seem like the wisest course of action, even if the stranger was a world-renowned musician. Her eyelids weighed heavily upon her eyes, she felt tired and drained from all the social interaction. Her foggy thoughts then wandered to Sra. Rojas; she wasn't in the mood to come home to yet another late night bash her supposed caretaker was throwing. _She probably wouldn't even notice I was gone._

"Okay," Isabel said with a weary sigh.

~~~

It was dark by the time they arrived at St. John's Wood. Unexpectedly, it began to pour the moment they stepped out of the car. As Paul stumbled with the keys, they both found themselves drenched. He then abruptly sighed and stopped.

"So, how are you feeling, love?" he asked with a smile.

"Well, I prefer hot showers, but other than that, I'm okay..." Isabel answered with a light, awkward chuckle.

Paul chuckled endearingly and shook his head, "Yeah, me too..."

Finally, the door opened, and Isabel was instantly met with an excited, slobbering English sheepdog.

"That's Martha," Paul chortled. "We just got her. Ain't she a beaut?"

"We?" Isabel questioned with the raise of an eyebrow.

"Uh...the lads and I picked her out!" Paul clarified.

Isabel nodded and took a seat on the couch where the puppy continued to lick her nose.

"Come, let's get you dried off and out of those clothes, sweetheart..." Paul uttered tenderly.

Isabel's heart skipped a beat as she gulped nervously. Did he mean what she thought he meant?

He promptly came over with a warm, dry towel and threw it over her shoulders, gently rubbing them with his brawny hands. Though she was shivering softly, she found that the warmth of his touch helped to relax her a great deal.

"You can wear the nightclothes I have laid out for myself on the bed, love," Paul offered.

"But then...what will _you_ wear?" Isabel asked in slight concern.

"I'll just sleep in _these_ clothes, pet, it's not a big deal..." Paul assured her as he got up and slipped a bathrobe over his soaking wet garments.

Isabel was about to protest, but she was suddenly drawn in by Martha's sweet whimpers. Smiling brightly, she looked down upon the pup and caressed her plush underbelly.

Gazing at her from across the room, Paul couldn't help but beam fondly at the girl he had only met several hours ago at the coffeeshop. There was something about her that captivated him, kept him guessing, and he was determined to keep her around regardless of what anyone else thought.

Looking up, Isabel noticed him staring and took on a faintly frightened expression.

"Don't stop," Paul urged delicately. "I like seeing you smile..."


	3. Premeditated Wisdom

Isabel didn't sleep very well that night. She already wasn't fond of the disturbing, confusing imagery that would flash before her eyes every time she dared to close them, but now the anxiety and uncertainty of everything that had transpired in the past day was hitting her hard and all at once. Feeling the familiar throbbing sensation in her fingertips, she witnessed the woefully tattered state of her hands.

It wasn't painful, what she repeatedly did to herself. She had become stunningly adept, over the years, at withstanding and blocking out pain; she was numb to it. This habit, ingrained in her since childhood, was something she was seldom ever fully conscious of when she did it. The pulsating morning-after effects of it brought her more pleasure than pain. Sighing in shame, she looked down upon her destroyed fingernails. How could something so horrifying look so beautiful and comforting to her?

Evidently, Paul had not gotten much sleep either. Isabel could hear him coughing loudly in the other room. When he eventually came out, it became apparent that he was indeed very ill: his skin was pale, his hair was disheveled and his eyes were bleary and bloodshot.

"Good morning, love," he chirped with a smile, sounding a bit hoarse. "How was your night?"

"Less than splendid," Isabel admitted. "But what about you? You sound dreadful..."

"Oh, I'm fine, love, don't worry about me!" Paul gleefully stated, his chuckles turning into a coughing fit.

~~~

"Are you sure you're fit to go to work today?" Isabel insisted as they rode in the cab, noting his incessant sniffling.

"I have to, darling, the lads _need_ me!" Paul asserted, discreetly wiping at his nose with a handkerchief.

"Do they need _me_?" Isabel asked, unsure of why he wanted her to tag along.

"Maybe _I_ need you..." Paul said with a playful grin, to which Isabel responded with her signature vacant stare.

Paul raised his eyebrow and smirked slightly, "Still nothing, huh? One of these days I'll get you to crack..."

After a moment of silence, Isabel took in a deep breath, longing to unload all the silly things on her mind that had been burdening her.

"Paul, I..."

Before she could finish her thought, Paul suddenly turned to the side and sneezed fiercely into the crook of his arm.

"Pardon me, love," Paul muttered, once again sniffling and raising his handkerchief to his reddening nose.

"It's not too late to turn back," Isabel reasoned, awkwardly toying with the idea of initiating some form of comforting touch. "I'm sure if you rest up and ingest the proper intake of fluids you'll be feeling better in no ti--"

"There's no time or need for all that! I assure you, I am fit as a fiddle!" Paul pressed in a light yet serious tone.

In awe of his stubborn determination, Isabel bit her lip and shifted her eyes to the side window, a tad shocked to realize they had already made it to EMI Studios.

"After you...ah-AAACHOOO!!!" Paul sneezed forcefully into his jacket as he opened the door for Isabel.

"Bless you," Isabel winced timidly at Paul's condition, which appeared to be steadily worsening.

"Thank you, dear!" Paul replied, still sounding surprisingly chipper.

~~~

As the two made their way into the building, they immediately caught the attention of John and Ringo.

"Eyy, Macca!" John trilled. "I see you've returned with the South American bird in tow..."

"Yaw-right, mate? You look _terrible_..." Ringo remarked, taken aback at his friend's pallid complexion.

Paul opened his mouth to respond, only to break down into another violent coughing fit.

"You _sound_ bloody awful as well..." John added, about equally as concerned as he was amused.

"I swear, fellas, I'm... _fine_! Never been better..." Paul wheezed and gasped for air, hunched over from his coughing spasms.

John rolled his eyes endearingly and approached his sickly bandmate, "Alright, buddy, let's get some _Arrestin_ in you..."

"Paul, may I borrow you for a mome--by Jove, what happened to him..!?" Brian rubbed his eyes and nose in lament as he marched in and spotted the suffering bassist.

"No worries, Bri, I've got it covered..." John said with a sneaky smile as he glanced down at a still hunched down Paul, grasping him tenderly from the back.

"John, please don't make me guzzle down that nasty cough syrup..." Paul whined.

"It's either that or you get sent home, Macca!" John stated firmly. Paul moaned but obliged in return.

"Uh, John, I'm going to need to have a word with you as well.." George Martin, the band's producer and audio engineer, spoke up.

"In a minute!" John flared, slowly hobbling out of the way with Paul still under his arms.

Slightly alarmed at the scene that had just arisen, Ringo shot a quick glance at Isabel and shrugged, leaving her alone in the brightly-lit room.

~~~

It had been a couple hours, and there was no sign of Paul or John, let alone anyone else she actually recognized, after their initial abrupt exit. Isabel sat bored in the corner, observing the bevy of people who walked in and out of the studio, fixated on their specific individual tasks.

Suddenly, she spotted someone familiar: it was none other than lead guitarist, George Harrison. George's eyes widened, immediately noticing her presence, and he moseyed on up to where she was sitting.

"Did Paul leave you here all by yourself..?" he asked quietly, appalled that his bandmate would abandon her in such a way.

Isabel looked up and then stared back down at her feet, "Yes, I suppose he did..."

"Ol' bugger..." George mumbled, rolling his eyes.

A long silence then ensued. Isabel was already deep into her own little world when George showed up, and it generally took her a while to come down from that.

"Well, I reckon if Paul isn't around, you can hang out with me for a bit. I feel like I don't know you very well..." George offered.

Isabel nodded, somewhat relieved to be whisked away from her boredom.

"You sure are a quiet one, aren't you..?" George remarked, grinning toothily. "That's okay, I can relate to being the one they deem 'quiet'..."

As he chuckled and shook his head, he extracted a long-necked, gourd-shaped string instrument from his case.

"Have you ever seen a sitar?" George inquired, looking up at Isabel.

"No, but I believe I heard it for the first time on your previous album..."

"You did indeed," George smiled. "I've become enamored with the South Asian soundscape -- it's truly one of a kind!"

"What got you so interested in Indian culture?" Isabel asked.

George bit his lip and chewed the inside of his mouth, deep in thought. "I dunno. I needed something that was all my own, something that made me stand out. I was struggling a bit with my identity within the group, but all that changed as soon as I found spirituality. It was like the missing piece I needed to find myself..."

Suddenly finding herself wide-eyed and breathless at his words, Isabel realized that she, too, was going through an identity crisis. She always felt like an empty shell, a husk, lacking a sense of self.

"Still," George continued. "I'd love to share this knowledge with the rest of the world. The lads and I have been discussing the possibility of going to India sometime soon."

All of a sudden, the telephone blared harshly. It proceeded to ring a couple times until someone finally picked it up.

Within a moment of the man answering the phone, he hurriedly handed the receiver to George.

"It's for you," he stated with a knowing raise of his brow.

"Thanks, Mal," George replied, narrowing his eyes in slight confusion. "Hello?"

His expression instantly shifted to casual amusement as soon as he recognized the voice on the other end.

"Is whatever you need so urgent that you have to call me at work? ... Seriously? You know you can get Neil to do it. I could get bloody spotted out there! ... What is _that_ supposed to mean!? They would still care if it was just me!" he sighed and shook his head in defeat. "Alright, anything for you, Mo..."

Isabel winced a bit as she stared idly, somehow feeling as though she was witnessing something unseemly.

Finally, he hung up the phone and glanced back at Isabel. "Isabel, right? Would you fancy running some errands with me?"

Surely, it was an odd request. However, despite everything, Isabel felt rather at ease with George.

"Yes, I think I _would_ fancy that..." Isabel face dimpled cutely.

~~~

The sun beamed warmly and brightly on the duo as they cut through the alleyways covered with overgrowth. Isabel, innately drawn to nature, couldn't help but notice how serene and photogenic everything looked around her. Catching a quick glimpse of George, she could tell he enjoyed being outdoors just as much.

Things immediately started to cool down as soon as they entered the nearest shop. Both seemed to mentally go their separate ways as George became focused on locating what he needed and Isabel began to zone out. Overtime, the two found their way back to each other in the middle of the store.

"I still can't believe Paul left you all by yourself..." George mentioned in disapproval.

Isabel remained quiet for a moment, absentmindedly inspecting a can of tomatoes.

"Maybe I needed to be alone for a little while..." she replied distantly.

"I was a bit surprised to see you go so readily with him last night..." George added.

Isabel once again paused, this time to examine her own logic. In the moment she agreed to stay with Paul, any alternative sounded better than whatever was waiting for her back home. Why would she go back to being a colorless, barely discernible moth when she could be treated like a beautiful, delicate butterfly?

"Maybe I needed some time away..."

George began to nod, seemingly understanding her cryptic statement. However, midway through the nod, he caught wind of Isabel's swollen red fingernail.

"Hey, what's that?" George pointed.

Isabel's eyes widened in panic as she broke into a sweat, "Oh, that's nothing! I _swear_!"

"What's wrong with your finger?" George pressed.

" _Nothing_!" Isabel nearly screamed. "It just looks red because I was touching some frozen items back there..."

George appeared unconvinced but decided it was best to drop it for right now.

"Should we start to head back..?" he suggested gently.

Isabel nodded slowly and lethargically, the lack of sleep now very apparent on her face.

"Are you okay..?" George inched closer, inspecting her exhaustion.

"I had a bit of a rough night..." Isabel confessed.

George brought a hand to his chin and arched his eyebrows, briefly contemplating.

"I know what might help..."

~~~

George silently motioned Isabel to follow him and they trudged back to the studio. Once inside, he led her into an empty room.

"You need to learn how to to turn off and tune out," George declared.

"I'm not sure I follow..." Isabel replied meekly.

"Meditation!" George clarified enthusiastically. "It's the only way to achieve peace of mind! Try not to focus on what was or what will be. It's the here and now that counts! The conflicting, disruptive things you're feeling are all in your mind. All you have to do is empty it..."

Isabel suddenly felt engrossed in everything he was saying, much like she was when he was speaking to her about spirituality. This time, however, she found herself catching her breath.

_Here and now. Here and now._

With a few more deep breaths, she allowed herself to transcend into a meditative state. They both remained in this state for an hour.

~~~

Slowly, as they both began to come back from their trance, they raised their bodies up from the ground and exited the vacant room. After walking a few steps, they crossed paths with Ringo, who raised his eyebrows suggestively at them.

"Hello, you two. What, may I ask, were you up to in there?" he stifled an indelicate chuckle, his eyes darting at the room George and Isabel had just come out of.

"Why do you always assume I'm some cad, mate?" George cackled heartily.

"Now, now, I'm just teasing," Ringo clarified with a wide smile. "I know you're not like that. You're a stunning example of a friend and gentleman."

"Speaking of which, where the bloody hell is Paul?" George questioned irritably.

"Hm? Oh, Paul? Yeah, I think he died..." Ringo answered nonchalantly.

"What!?" George exclaimed in shock.

"He left with John a few hours ago. He was looking mad pale and coughing up a storm..."

"BUT I HAVE TO FINISH THE SOOOOONG!!!" Paul's feverish bellowing suddenly echoed throughout the studio.

"Speak of the sly devil..." George muttered, biting his lip.

"Alright, I think we've practiced enough for today, love," John remarked gently, patting Paul's back.

"NO!" Paul sniffed. "WE NEED TO FINISH THE SONG FIRST!! IT'S ALL WRONG..."

"We can fix it tomorrow, Paulie. Right now you need some rest..." John coaxed.

"SCREW REST!! I'll rest when I'm dead..heh..the song..guhmuh..." Paul's words began to slur out as his illness sleep deprivation got the better of him.

"Don't mind him, lads. We didn't even work on any song today. He's just all swimmy from the cough medicine..." John explained huskily.

"WAIT! WHERE'S ISABEL...?!" Paul suddenly bubbled up from his drooling, sleepy state.

"Right here, mate," George stepped aside to reveal a patiently biding Isabel. "We kinda spent the day together. Thought you had up and abandoned her. I didn't know you were sick..."

Paul's face perked up in a child-like awe as he approached George, "...You looked after her today..?"

George nodded.

"Thanks, mate!" he reached out to shake his bandmate's hand in gratitude, but not before a mighty sneeze escaped him. "Ha-AAAHCHOOO!!!"

"Uh...t'was no problem..." George chimed back as he warily wiped his hand on his shirt.

"Heh-heh, come love, lemme take you back to my place..." Paul addressed Isabel with a grateful chortle.

John suddenly raised his brows in alarm, "Uhhhhh, I think _I_ should take you home, Paul..."

Paul giggled, "Okay!"

At that, John grabbed Paul and they waddled away, Paul's head now resting sleepily on John's shoulder.

George then turned to face Isabel.

"Do you want me to take you home? Your _real_ one..?" he asked softly.

Isabel hesitated for a moment, but eventually nodded.

"Alright, come with me."

~~~

The sun was setting, turning the twilight skies a rich, milky purple, as they silently cruised the streets. Isabel's eyes remained glued to the outside world that appeared through her window, the one she was discovering more and more of each day.

"So, how do you feel now that you've had some time... _away_..?" George asked as he drove, his eyes fixed on the road.

Isabel chewed on the question, her gaze not leaving the sunset.

"Still drained," she finally said. "But _better_."

"I'm glad to hear it," George bobbed his head in approval.

Within a couple minutes, they reached Señora Rojas' cottage. Just as she was about to get out of the car, George laid a hand upon Isabel's arm in concern.

"Hey," he started. "Be careful with Paul. I can tell he fancies you. He acts some kind of way with all the pretty girls..."

Isabel felt her heart flutter and her stomach flip as she bit her lip and nodded at his words.

~~~

Isabel stumbled upon some empty wine bottles as she walked through the main entryway of the cottage. A few of them were broken. Looks like another fun _party_ had broken out in the vicinity.

Slowly, she trudged up the entire staircase and locked herself in her room; her only sanctuary away from the madness. Once there, Isabel slipped out a vinyl from underneath her bed. The only record she had brought with her from America. After blowing some of the dust off, she stuck the needle on the disk and started the record player.

Isabel laid atop her bed, her back firmly against the mattress, as the enticing music filled her ears and mind. Though she had listened to this particular song countless times, she never failed to reach utter euphoria.

 _I keep looking for a place to fit_  
_Where I can speak my mind_  
_I've been trying hard to find the people_  
_That I won't leave behind_  
_They say I got brains_  
_But they ain't doing me no good_  
_I wish they could_  
_Each time things start to happen again_  
_I think I got something good goin' for myself_  
_But what goes wrong_  
_Sometimes I feel very sad_  
_Sometimes I feel very sad_  
_(Can't find nothin' I can put my heart and soul into)_  
_Sometimes I feel very sad_  
_(Can't find nothin' I can put my heart and soul into)_  
_I guess I just wasn't made for these times_  
_Every time I get the inspiration_  
_To go change things around_  
_No one wants to help me look for places_  
_Where new things might be found_  
_Where can I turn when my fair weather friends cop out_  
_What's it all about_  
_Each time things start to happen again_  
_I think I got something good goin' for myself_  
_But what goes wrong_  
_Sometimes I feel very sad_  
_Sometimes I feel very sad_  
_(Can't find nothin' I can put my heart and soul into)_  
_Sometimes I feel very sad_  
_(Can't find nothin' I can put my heart and soul into)_  
_I guess I just wasn't made for these times_

And as she blankly stared up at the ceiling in her dusty, old room in the cottage, Isabel finally found the words she had been struggling to find.


	4. Back Again

The break of dawn. Isabel was well-acquainted with this time of the day. It was at this time, just as the sun began to rise and peek through her window, that she would engage in her deepest bouts of thought. Up until yesterday, this hour marked the time of her daily debate regarding whether or not to step out for the day and explore life outside the cottage.

But something felt notably different this morning. She felt more caged and trapped inside her home than ever before. For once, she wasn't content to just stay in. As she stood and stared out at the sunrise, she had to acknowledge that she wasn't feeling happy or comfortable with this living arrangement. The only time she felt genuinely safe was when Mitch was around...

_"Be careful with Paul._   
_He acts some kind of way with all the pretty girls."_

It was probably best to heed George's advice, Isabel thought. It wasn't as if she hadn't noticed the worrisome signs.

_"Be careful with Paul._   
_Be careful with Paul._   
_Be careful._   
_Be careful..."_

Yet somewhere, deep within her, she realized she was feeling some resistance to his words. However brief, Isabel had enjoyed her time with Paul. She had felt something. He had a certain glow about him, a distinct optimism, that gave her a sense of warmth and solace. Something she rarely felt around anyone.

_"Be careful..."_

Isabel swallowed bitterly.  _I've always been careful._ She had erred on the side of safety and caution all her life. It didn't prevent her from experiencing intense emotional pain on a near constant basis. She felt an immense burden weighing heavily and invariably on her heart. An inexplicable presence that, much like a dark cloud, would always loom over her, and it strangely seemed to precede any memories she had.

Scoffing loudly, Isabel suddenly couldn't withstand another moment of dawdling. She slipped out of her nightie, dug out her prettiest sundress and eagerly stuck her head and limbs through it as she ran down the stairs.

Without a hitch, she hailed a cab. Her face flushed, her heart began to pound and her stomach bubbled with excitement as she slid into the backseat.

"Where to, miss?" the cab driver asked gruffly.

"EMI studios, please..."

~~~

"I'm feeling much better today!" Paul cheerily announced as he stepped inside the room where the other boys were rehearsing.

John's eyes narrowed in annoyance as he rubbed underneath his nose with his finger, "Great..."

John wasn't feeling too hot, in stark contrast with Paul. His face was noticeably wan and there was an instantly detectable congestion in his voice.

"I feel refreshed and ready to take on anything!" Paul declared, fervently rubbing his hands together.

John responded in turn by muffling a sneeze into his sleeve, further highlighting his disparity in humor as he loudly snuffled and wiped his watery eyes with the back of his arm.

"Need me to break out the  _Arrestin_..?" Paul grinned as he elbowed John cheekily.

"I think I'm good, Paul, thanks..." John grumbled, glowering back at him.

"Whatever happened to Isabel?" Ringo asked. "Did she make it back home safely?"

"She did," George affirmed with a wry smile. "Quite an enigma, that one is..."

"Don't think I didn't catch onto the fact that you took a little day trip with her yesterday," John noted as he absentmindedly dabbed his nose with a handkerchief, raising a judgmental brow at his younger bandmate. "Should you really be making a pass at another bird? Aren't you already... _occupied_ enough?"

George chuckled drolly, "No, it wasn't like that. She's a pretty picture frame, no doubt, but she's also just pleasant to be around."

"Is she now..?" John raised a hand to his chin curiously, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

"She took quite a bit of interest in me and my meditation," George added, beaming proudly.

John scoffed and rolled his eyes, " _That_  shit again..?"

"I would've liked to spend more time with her before she got locked away again forever..." Paul sighed wistfully.

"What?" John snorted in dry amusement as he turned to his other bandmate. "You didn't wear out your use of her yet?"

Paul's eyes widened almost indistinguishably, "I--um, we haven't..."

John let out a slow, dumbfounded chuckle, "You mean to tell me you two haven't done the nasty yet..?"

"Holy Stromboli!" Ringo piped up in disbelief.

"What he said!" George chortled. "I thought you would've fooked her senseless by now!"

John nodded in agreement, "Exactly! I call poppycock! You're Paul McCharmly. She's a fit lass who stayed the night at your abode. You mean to tell me you haven't so much as copped a feel in over 24 hours..?"

All of a sudden, Paul turned bright red. He looked down, avoiding the gaze of the lads.

_"Here, let's get you cleaned up..."_

_"NO!!!_   
_Don't touch me!!!_   
_Don't come any closer!!!"_

John narrowed his eyes and nodded knowingly, "I knew it..."

"I-it wasn't like that!" Paul stuttered out defensively, still looking flustered.

"Oh, wasn't it..?" John tested with a crooked smile. "I must say, I don't get it. Since when are  _you_  one to wait?"

Paul rubbed his neck, his face now grave and solemn. Though he admittedly couldn't resist a few stray touches here and there, getting too handsy with Isabel felt like a bad idea.

"It's like I keep trying to tell you, she's  _different_ ," he replied simply.

John rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, "Oh, please! Different, my  _arse_!"

"Lay off of him, John. If he's falling in love and he's treating women better as a result, we should be encouraging him..." Ringo shot up in defense of Paul.

"We shouldn't be encouraging  _anything_ ," John spat as he sniffed and rubbed under his nose ferociously. "Need I remind you of the redhead? Or did the lot of you already forget..?"

Despite the awkward pause that followed John's hefty dose of reality, Paul pressed on in a firm, confident tone.

"This isn't about her. I  _like_  Isabel, she's a sweet and gentle bird. As a matter of fact, you could learn a thing or two from her, Lennon..." he remarked bitingly as his eyes met John's burgeoning scowl.

"I don't see why any of this matters," George commented, attempting to cut through the tension. "It's not like we'll ever see  _her_  again..."

Just then, the sound of a door shutting echoed through the room.

"Hi, again, everybody!" Isabel chirped with a smile.

"...It's not like the circus is suddenly coming to town!" Ringo exclaimed ironically to the sky, to which George sneered endearingly.

"Isabel!" Paul cried, overjoyed at her unexpected visit.

"Who in the hell let  _you_  through the door!?" John blurted, choking a bit on his words as he did so.

"Uh, big, burly dude with glasses..?" Isabel informed him.

"Mal, I swear, what a teddy bear!" John remarked as he shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"Isabel, dear, what brings you back here!?" Paul asked, his chipper mood now swiftly returning.

Isabel continued to smile widely as her eyes darted to George, "Uh, I never properly thanked you for keeping me company and teaching me about meditation yesterday, George. It really helped lift my spirits!"

"Don't mention it, love. It's easy to get the hang of once you start doing it regularly!" George waved off modestly.

John harrumphed loudly, his eyes threatening to roll right off his head. 

Isabel gulped, suddenly filling with uneasiness at John's visibly unamused reactions.

"I actually forgot some of my song notes at home!" Paul announced hesitantly. "Isabel, would you like to run home with me and get them..?"

"Oh, okay..." Isabel beamed shyly at Paul's glowing face as she remembered the real reason why she came back.

"Why not skip hand in hand through a field of cornflowers while you're at it?" John deadpanned. 

In spite of his sarcasm, Isabel had to giggle at the absurd imagery of John's comment.

"That precious giggle is music to my ears, darling!" Paul noted, looking smitten.

John, George and Ringo all groaned and rolled their eyes simultaneously this time.

"Oh, sod off! All of you!" Paul yowled, flailing his hand at them. "Isabel, dear, are you ready to go?"

Isabel's eyes slightly widened in self-consciousness, "Yes, but...may I please just take a moment to freshen up?"

"Of course, darling!" Paul uttered sweetly.

In reality, Isabel just needed an excuse to escape the increasingly cruel mockery that was ensuing.

Dashing as fast as she could into the nearest loo, she ran the tap and lightly spritzed her face. Afterward, she looked up and briefly stared at her reflection in the mirror.

She had actually been looking forward to seeing Paul and the lads again; she was disheartened that they weren't taking to her in the same way she was taking to them. It was the story of her life, it seemed.

Taking a short breath, she dried her hands off and made her way back into the room.

"I'll be back in a little bit," she heard Paul say from a distance. Warily, she pressed an ear to the door and cracked it open slightly.

"George, we can discuss that guitar solo on  _Taxman_  as soon as I return," he continued, slipping on his jacket.

"Sure, mate," George replied with a shrewd smile. "And hey, good luck with Isabel. Maybe you'll make it past gentle grazing this time!"

Both he and Ringo exchanged a look and began to snicker. Paul did not look so amused.

"You gits better cut it out! This isn't just some run-of-the-mill bird, she actually means something to me..."

"Pshaw..." John emitted as he looked to the sky and rubbed his sore nose irritably.

"And you!" Paul pointed to John. "Drop the attitude. You're hurting Isabel's feelings..."

"Why do we all suddenly need to bow down to her like she's some princess!?" John looked at Paul pointedly. "Isn't  _one_  enough!?"

Hurt and struck by his words, Isabel attempted to swallow a large lump forming in her throat.

Paul glared intensely at John, as though he wanted to burn a hole through his eyes.

George and Ringo glanced awkwardly at each other in the background. Isabel could tell through the crack in the door that there was some unspoken communication going on between them, indicating that these squabbles were a common occurrence between Paul and John.

"I'm not gonna stand here and let you drag her through the mud just because I like her!" Paul flared.

"Then don't stand there!  _Leave_!" John nearly shouted.

"Uh, George, weren't you going to show me that revolutionary new sandwich you invented..?" Ringo piped up, raising his eyebrows in alarm.

"Oh, yeah. We should both go in the kitchen right now and see what I made this morning!" George choked out hoarsely. In truth, he wasn't feeling 100% himself in terms of his health, but he had better control over his mood than John when he was sick.

"Fine! I think I  _will_  leave!" Paul declared.

"Don't hurry back!" John cracked bitterly.

Isabel, still hidden behind the door, was on the verge of tears. The fact that her presence was driving a wedge between John and Paul devastated her. To be the cause of such spite and resentment in John, it stung deeply.

Paul's eyes locked with Isabel's as soon as he turned his back to John and opened the door. She tried mightily to fight back the tears and put up a strong front for him.

"Ahem, are you ready to go then, love?" Paul asked, quickly shaking off any signs of distress.

Isabel opened her mouth, desperately wanting to express to Paul what she was feeling, but it was stuck in her throat. Her inner-anguish manifested itself as a dull pain, pulsing through her extremities.

_You're an inconvenience._   
_You're not wanted here._   
_You don't belong here._

Paul chuckled feebly, "Let's get some fresh air, yeah?"

~~~

Once they made it out of the studio, Isabel was able to take a deep breath and clear her head a bit. A sprouting English Daisy on the side of the road caught her eye. Pushing John's cornflower comment out of her mind, she bent down to take a better look at it.

Glancing over at Isabel, Paul noticed her staring intently at the flower. He admired the way the wind blew gently at her long, brown hair and the way the sunlight danced upon her features. Isabel truly was someone who stopped and took the time to appreciate the beauty in everything, but she never seemed to see or acknowledge the beauty she had within.

Eventually, they both made it back to Paul's home in St. John's Wood. This time, however, they were met by a half a dozen rambunctious fans. Their frenzied screams and squeals dulled and unamused scowls began to form on their faces as soon as they laid eyes on Isabel.

_Great. Just what I needed._ Isabel thought.  _More screaming, antsy people who don't want me around..._

"Who's your friend, Paulie!?" one of them asked.

"Never you mind," Paul chortled, beaming at the young lass.

Thankfully, there wasn't any more heckling to be endured before Paul unlocked the door.

Much like before, Martha wagged her tail and greeted Isabel eagerly. It was enough to melt some of the stress Isabel was currently experiencing.

"Make yourself at home, dear!" Paul offered cheerily.

Isabel still heard noises coming from outside; she turned around to see that the fans were still running amuck and peeping through the window. One of them even rang the doorbell repeatedly.

"How do you deal with that?" Isabel asked.

Paul shrugged, "Eh, you get used to it. But don't be bothered by them. I want to know how you're doing, love?"

Isabel sighed. It annoyed her a bit when people would ask her how she was doing. Such a vague question. Half the time, she didn't know how to answer. It wasn't something she expected Paul to understand.

"Sometimes I don't know how I am. I just  _am_ ," Isabel stated blankly.

Paul's eyes momentarily widened as he bit his lip, "Well, tell you what, dear. Why don't I make us a spot of tea, in the meantime? I can put on some music? What do you like to listen to?"

Isabel's head cocked to the side, wondering the best way to respond. "I like a lot of music, but I don't suppose you'd be interested in listening to the composer I have in mind at the moment."

Paul smiled coyly, "Try me."

Isabel exhaled deeply, "Well, honestly, there's nothing I'd like more right now than to curl up on the couch with a blanket and a cup of piping hot tea with some good, old-fashioned Tchaikovsky in the background!"

Paul grinned, "I'm on it, love! I could go for some of that myself! And I absolutely  _adore_  Tchaikovsky -- I hardly ever get to dust off the 'ol record and listen to it! Thanks for the excuse!"

"Weren't you going to grab notes for a song?" Isabel inquired.

"Oh, that's right..." Paul recalled softly, rubbing his chin. "You know, something you said the other day really stuck with me. You told me you don't have a place where you belong..?"

Isabel's throat tightened. She didn't want to think about this right now.

"What you said actually inspired a song I'm working on. You spoke of how you spend all your time observing people; I thought it might be fun to role play as one of those observers..." Paul continued. "Do you want to hear what I have so far?"

Isabel nodded silently, a small knot forming in her stomach.

Paul stepped to the piano and began playing in a rapid, melancholy fashion.

_"Eleanor Rigby, picks up the rice_   
_In the church where a wedding has been_   
_Lives in a dream_   
_Waits at the window, wearing the face_   
_That she keeps in a jar by the door_   
_Who is it for_   
_All the lonely people_   
_Where do they all come from?_   
_All the lonely people_   
_Where do they all belong?"_

Isabel stood and stared with her mouth agape, in awe of what Paul was able to spawn from her nearly meaningless words.

"It still needs some work," Paul aired. "I'll have... _John_...look at it later."

It was only for a split second, but Isabel spotted him wincing as his thoughts briefly flashed back to the spectacle that went down earlier at the studio. He gulped, looking weary and distracted as he perched on his piano.

"Does this happen a lot?" Isabel asked.

Paul looked up and raised his brows a bit, "Hm?"

"You and John, do you run into disagreements frequently?" Isabel reiterated.

Paul looked coyly to the side, "You could say that. John's my best mate, but sometimes I feel he doesn't understand me. Every once in a while, we have it out..."

Isabel nodded. She couldn't fully understand why, but there was something about Paul and John's working dynamic that intrigued her. It seemed to be something that transcended beyond a mere partnership.

"But enough about that," Paul concluded. "Let's listen to some of that Tchaikovsky, shall we?"

~~~

They went onto listen to the entire A-side of Paul's Decca record. Though they weren't sitting terribly close, they were still able to get a good look at each other as they casually sipped from their mugs.

"What's on your mind, dear?" Paul boyishly grinned as he nudged Isabel slightly with his foot.

"Paul, why do you keep me around?" Isabel asked solemnly.

Paul chuckled, "What do you mean?"

"I feel my hanging around you is causing more trouble than what it's worth. John can't stand me, I don't see how  _you're_  able to spend more than five minutes with me..."

"I quite like you," Paul expressed sincerely.

"But  _why_? Why haven't you kicked me out yet? Why do you keep running to my defense when people question my presence?" Isabel pressed on.

"Why  _not_? I like you, so naturally, I like having you around..."

"I don't see why you would, I'm  _boring_ ," Isabel blurted out hopelessly.

Paul tittered endearingly, "You're not boring, you just haven't opened up yet..."

Isabel sighed in exasperation, unable to get her point across to him.

Paul gazed up at her slowly from his teacup, "I guess I just see a bit of myself in you..."

Isabel couldn't resist smirking at this, "Really? But you're so confident and I'm so... _not_..."

Paul's face glimmered back at her, "It's not  _real_ , love, you just fake it 'til you make it..."

Isabel glanced to the side and pondered his words. Paul always had such a bravado about him, it was hard for her to fathom that it could all be just an act...

"I keep you around because you listen and you don't judge me like all the others...you're a caring and empathetic soul," Paul explained in a more serious tone. "Also, you have lovely eyes!"

Isabel's cheeks slightly reddened as she smiled. She was beginning to feel vulnerable in a way she had never felt around someone this young.

"Well, that answers  _that_  question," Paul stated. "Now answer one of mine: Why did you come back today?"

Isabel averted her eyes, suddenly uncomfortable.

"...I don't feel safe at home..." she admitted.

"Then stay here with me!" he replied immediately.

Isabel gaped at him in disbelief, "Paul, I can't just-"

"No, I insist! You haven't been enjoying yourself in London. It's because of that mean old bat you live with, isn't it? She's the one who's making you feel like rubbish!"

"No, Paul, you don't understand, it's not just her! It's everything! It's...it's...I don't know what it is precisely, I just know I don't feel safe..."

"And that's how  _I_ know I need to step in. I'm not gonna stand idly by while a beautiful, young bird is suffering! That settles it! You're staying here!"

Isabel felt conflicted at Paul's offer. Then, all of a sudden, Martha came strolling up beside her, licking her hand.

"Okay, for Martha, I'll stay," Isabel proclaimed as she vigorously rubbed the dog's ears.

Paul chortled, "I'll take it! Wonderful!"

~~~

Isabel expected there to be some lingering tension between Paul and John when they arrived back at the studio. However, much to her surprise, John's eyes softened when he spotted Paul. It seemed as though they had both already moved past their spat, as if it never even happened in the first place.

"Afternoon, 'ol chap!" Paul nodded and smiled at him as he greeted.

"It is, indeed!" John replied with a warm, friendly simper.

"Well, don't be shy, Paul, come pop a squat!" George offered as he patted the seat next to him.

In a sudden burst of confidence, Isabel took this opportunity to slink into view from behind Paul and to sit in close proximity with him, a detail both John and George immediately took notice of. 

"So, how was everyone's day?" Paul asked cheerfully.

"Well, mine was  _shit_!" John stated bluntly. "How was  _your_  day, Harrison?"

George shrugged, "Well, I got to show Ringo my footlong..."

All three of them smiled slyly at each other and erupted into a fit of laughter.

"Hello boys," Ringo waltzed through the door, as if on cue, with a knowing grin. "Guess who I just got off the phone with?"

"Who?" Paul questioned curiously.

Ringo's eyes narrowed mischievously, " _Gail_..."

"ABBIE....!!!??" John's eyes widened as he briskly stood up and dropped everything, knocking down Ringo's drum set in the process.

"Well,  _that_  reaction was subtle..." George cracked with a smirk.

All of a sudden, Isabel felt Paul's body tense beside her. When she looked over, his expression appeared to be frozen; a mixed state of shock and pure horror.

Ringo chuckled, "Yeah, she rang me up and said she's coming to visit us tomorrow!"

" _Tomorrow_!?" John staggered. "That bloody siren's been gone for eight months and now she just decides to pop up out of nowhere!?"

"I think it'll be nice to see her again! I hadn't heard from her in a while..." Ringo remarked.

"Yeah, and maybe it's best we keep it that way!" John suggested indignantly.

"Come on, Johnny, be honest. You just can't deal with the temptation right now..." George nudged teasingly.

John's face turned a fuming red for a split second, but then he just as quickly shifted the attention elsewhere.

He turned to Paul, "Don't  _you_  have anything to say about this, Macca!?"

Paul looked around at all his mates cautiously, "I'm withholding my comments for right now..."

John shook his head, "Typical Macca, always the PR man..."

Suddenly, Isabel once again felt the urge to temporarily flee the scene.

"I...think it's time for me to go freshen up again..." Isabel excused herself.

They all appeared to ignore her as they seemed to be completely absorbed in thought.

When Isabel came back, not unlike before, she overheard the boys talking.

"Wait, where did the girl go?" John abruptly asked.

"Huh? Oh, I think she went to the powder room again..." Paul answered distantly.

"Those quiet birds," John mused with the shake of his head. "You can't trust 'em!"

"Hey now, Gail started out quiet too and she turned out to be a little  _scamp_..." George pointed out with an amused chortle.

_Gail._ There was that name again. The name that caused such a visceral reaction in each of the boys...

"This one's  _different_!" John insisted. "I'm telling you, there's something iffy about that girl!"

Paul looked downward for a moment, pausing awkwardly, "...She's...going to be living with  _me_  for the time being..."

John stared blankly at Paul, too dumbfounded to say anything in response.

"I'm glad you realize that there's nothing you can say to talk me out of it..." Paul stated sternly, and then he walked off.

John groaned. A pounding headache was beginning to form at his temples. He rubbed his hands in his face and then blew his nose loudly.

"Ey mate, I know just the thing that'll take your mind off things and make you feel better!" Ringo coaxed as he flashed him a couple sugar cubes.

"Heh-heh yeah, you're gonna need it for when you see Gail tomorrow!" George razzed.

"No," John said solemnly, looking dazed as he looked up. "I need to be sober for this..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have no idea who Gail Greene is, then I highly suggest you read I Wouldn't Change a Thing for the proper context (fair warning, though, my writing style has changed a LOT since last year). And for those of you who do know who she is, it wouldn't hurt to read it again as a refresher. ;)


	5. Reunited and Resurfaced

Every morning would start out in more or less the same way for Gail Greene. Breathlessly laying in a pool of her own sweat and tears, she would awaken with an erratic jolt. Glimpsing briefly at the calendar on her bedside, she would recoil as her mind flashed back to her recurring nightmare. The same nightmare she had been having every night, without fail, for the past eight months.

As she gulped and emitted a drowsy, pained moan, Gail knew that today would be no ordinary day. Then again, it was never quite an ordinary day when  _they_  were involved.

Before she could get too swept up in her nerves, Gail opted to take the London Underground to EMI. There was something about the people on the tube and the sound of the engine that soothed her.

Taking out her compact mirror from her purse, she proceeded to apply a coat of blood red lipstick to her lips. After a couple lip smacks and side-glances for good measure, Gail stared at the skittish hazel-green eyes that blinked back at her.

" _Relax_ , Gail, you're just seeing some old friends! Nothing radical, nothing to get worked up about!" she reassured her reflection.

She then glanced around uneasily, taking heed of the surrounding patrons, before returning her attention to the mirror.

"Talking to yourself? Come on, Gail, we talked about this. It makes you seem psychotic..." she tittered anxiously.

~~~

Paul had been acting decidedly nervous since last night, Isabel noted. He tried to engage in polite conversation as best he could, but ultimately slipped silently into bed without bidding her so much as a goodnight. This same distracted demeanor persisted in this present moment as he bit forcefully down on his lip and his gaze shifted sideways, his eyes glazed over and faraway.

There was something in the air this morning, Isabel could feel it. Almost ominous, but not quite. Sort of an anxious anticipation. It was hard for Isabel to ask Paul what was wrong; she felt intimidated somehow. And after yesterday's spectacle, she knew her latched-on presence was doing nothing to help matters.

"Paul..." Isabel uttered timidly, suddenly unable to hold her tongue any longer.

This small cry was ignored by Paul, his glazed expression frozen on his face.

"Paul," Isabel tried again, a bit more firmly.

"Hm?" Paul's head abruptly whisked in her direction, his eyebrow now raised in slight befuddlement as he snapped out of his daze. "Oh, I'm sorry, dear..."

"Paul, are you okay?" Isabel asked.

"I'm fine, love, everything's grand," he smiled weakly, his forehead furrowing as he looked downward.

Just then, John came mirthlessly trudging in. He looked all around him, blankly and tentatively, before slumping down in his chair with conviction.

"She's coming today," he stated in a low, solemn tone.

"I know," George nodded from behind the drum kit, smirking subtly. "How do you feel..?"

John glanced cagily at George before smiling, "...Actually, you know what? I feel great! Fantastic, top of the world, fuzzy as a peach!"

George chuckled in reply, "That's good to hear, Johnny-boy! Good to see you aren't all wound up in a tizzy over our unexpected guest!"

"Ha-ha, no siree, Harry, old boy! In fact, I'm  _excited_  to see Abbi--eeoooouhh..." he couldn't finish reciting her name before retching into his hand and running desperately off to the loo.

George sighed and rolled his eyes good-naturedly at his friend's telling display. Meanwhile, Paul couldn't be bothered to even notice what happened.

"It's okay, false alarm, everyone! I am perfectly unperturbed!" John proclaimed glibly as he walked back in.

"Paul, who is Gail?" Isabel asked pointedly. It was the question that had been lingering in her head since the first mention of her mysterious name.

All of a sudden, she spotted John's eyes widening as he and Paul looked at each other, communicating without words.

Isabel grunted softly. She was getting annoyed with being constantly left out of the conversation.

~~~

As she neared EMI, Gail began to experience overwhelming feelings of nostalgia. Her heart fluttered with a sharp pang as she exited the train and recognized the musty building her taxi would always pull up to. A glaring symbol of the life she had forsaken.

These wistful feelings only became stronger as Gail entered the vicinity. All at once, the memories came flooding back. The fetching, the cleaning, the paperwork, the heavenly voices that would echo through the studio...

 _Wait._ Was that their actual voices she was hearing? Could it really be them? The unmistakable sound of the boys?  _Her_  boys?

Everything was hitting her so hard, so quickly, it was dizzying. Suddenly feeling weak and short of breath, Gail ran into the nearest loo.

She hunched over the sink, gasping for air, as she finished spewing out everything that had been plaguing her stomach.

Looking back up at her reflection, her eyebrows perched together with stern, unrelenting determination.

"Okay, Gail. Don't cry, don't freak out, don't show any kind of vulnerability!" she pointed adamantly at herself in the mirror.

With a deep breath in, she stepped out and hoped she would find the courage within her to face the inevitable music.

~~~

If Isabel had hoped to garner any kind of insight on who Gail was, those hopes were quickly dashed. In their brief wordless exchange, it seemed Paul and John both agreed to gloss over her significance.

 _"Oh, she's nothing you need to worry about, dear..."_ Paul had assured her dismissively.

Isabel couldn't help rolling her eyes at this vague reply. Regardless of how much or how little this person's visit actually concerned her, it was still quite evidently something Paul and John felt the need to worry about.

Ringo had now joined the lads and was waiting just as eagerly as the rest of them. They had gotten back into the groove of conversing in a relaxed, amicable manner.

Suddenly, everyone took pause to the sound of a door shutting faintly in the distance.

"Oh, god, Abbie's here!" John panicked and fled back to the men's room as the next wave of nausea hit him.

Once again, Isabel felt Paul's body stiffen beside her as his hands absentmindedly roamed to his head and he unquietly began to fix his hair.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the door, Gail was determined to make as unassuming an entrance as she possibly could. Wary of the fuss, she almost did not want to be seen by them at all. Chuckling, she recalled when it was once her daily goal to not get noticed by the boys.

She was terrified to see them again, if she was being quite honest, and that certainly reflected in what she chose to do next.

In an attempt to remain hidden, she opted to crawl behind the gigantic sound booths that were scattered throughout the area. Grateful that she was on the smaller side, she was able to slink out of sight quite effectively.

Unfortunately, she wasn't able to keep perfectly quiet. The slight tapping noises were enough to set everyone off.

"Do you hear something..?" Paul asked in confusion.

"Yeah," George nodded, equally suspicious. "I think it's coming from over there..."

"Not to worry, lads, I'll have a looksy..." Ringo stated cheerfully.

Freezing as she heard this, Gail suddenly felt utterly stupid. She didn't want to get caught entering the room like this; she didn't want this pitiful spectacle to be the boys' first sight of her after eight months of separation. Crawling frantically towards the door, she wanted to do over the entire entrance.

 _Well Gail, you've hit lower points..._ Gail resigned to herself as she squirmed underneath Ringo's drum set.

"Is someone there..?" Ringo asked slowly as he looked down and lightly placed his hand on the drums.

Gail tried to escape Ringo's sight in a frenzy, only to knock over the drum set in a monstrously loud fashion, revealing her undignified position.

" _Gail_!?" Ringo exclaimed.

"Ha- _hey_ , Ringo!" Gail peeped as she chuckled feebly.

"Gail!!!" Ringo rejoiced as he picked her up and squeezed her. "Is it really you!? Oh, it's so good to see you!"

"It's good to see you too, Ringo! I'm sorry about your drums..." she remarked timidly with a twinge of guilt.

"Oh, no worries! They always get quite a bashing, that's the second time they've taken a fall this week..." Ringo assured her, shaking his head dismissively.

"What a way to make an entry, Greene!" George appeared from behind him, smiling and chortling quietly.

"George!" Gail cried out in joy as she ran into George's open arms.

Already emotional and misty-eyed, she knew she was struggling to fulfill the standard of composure she had attempted to set for herself.

"I've missed you, kid!" George expressed with affection, gently releasing his embrace.

"Who're you calling kid!?" Gail giggled, pressing a playful finger against George's chest. "I'm older than you, you know!"

George sighed mildly and shook his head in endearment, "Yeah, yeah. And how have  _you_  been, o sage one?"

"Oh, I've been  _great_!" Gail answered with reflexive enthusiasm. "Fabulous, wonderful..."

"Fuzzy as a peach?" Ringo chimed in, exchanging a knowing smile with George over what he had been filled in on regarding John's curious word usage.

An awkward silence fell as Gail's face contorted in confusion at the reference. She then took a sly peek around, attempting to appear casual.

"...So, um, where's John...?" she asked tentatively.

"Still throwing up," George stated nonchalantly.

"What?" Gail raised an eyebrow in concern.

"Yeah, the poor chap's not been feeling well lately..." Ringo explained dolefully.

John, however, knew what was provoking this reaction, and it wasn't some 24-hour bug.

All of a sudden, Paul hesitantly stepped forward.

"Gail..?"

" _Paul_..!" Gail greeted in a high-pitched tone that seemed to indicate agony instead of glee.

"Nice of you to finally look my way, Gail!" Paul chuckled awkwardly as he anxiously rubbed the back of his neck and stepped closer, attempting to close the glaringly wide space between them. "For a moment there, it felt as though you forgot I was even a Beatle..."

"Oh, trust me, I've been trying to do just that..." Gail muttered anxiously under her breath, masking the comment with a throat-clearing.

"What was that..?" Paul asked, his eyes widening in dread.

"Nothing! Paul, it's so lovely to see you again!" Gail plastered a smile on her face and scurried up to give him a tense, haphazard hug.

Before anyone could fully process what was happening, the sound of a certain unmistakable voice crept up on Gail from behind and instantly made her heart drop.

" _Abbie..?_ " John uttered gently.

Gail turned around, slowly and cautiously, until their eyes met.

They both froze, awestruck, taking a moment to gaze at each other. It was as if everything they had been through together, every feeling they had been trying to squash, every memory they had fought themselves to forget, was hitting them both in a span of seconds.

 _Those eyes._ The same eyes that never failed to make her melt into a puddle.

" _John_..." Gail stated shakily.

No one dared to breathe a word for a few long moments as a dreadfully awkward silence descended upon the room.

"So, uh, how's your wife?" Gail asked with a small chuckle, promptly regretting her frivolous manner as she felt everyone around her wince with discomfort.

John blinked incredulously, as if snapped out of a spell, "She's, um, she's good, I guess..."

Gail continued to chortle apprehensively, "Well, when you think about it, she can't possibly have it  _too_  bad, being married to someone 'bigger than Jesus' and all..."

The winces became louder and stronger as John sat, shocked and at a loss for words.

"Too  _soon_ , Gail..." Ringo enthusiastically decried, shaking his head.

Gail became slightly frantic as she began to back away, "Oh, my, this isn't going well...I should leave..."

"Wait, don't go..." John stood up briskly, his voice tender and caring.

"No, no, I think that's what's best...I don't know what I was thinking showing my face back here again..." Gail's voice trembled as she turned away.

"No, you're not escaping me this time, Greene, not again..." John mischievously declared as he grabbed Gail by the waist and blithely spun her around.

This genial action appeared to break the ice as Gail succumbed to a fit of giggles, "Stop, John, you filthy bastard, let me go!"

"Tsk, tsk. Abbie, such language! You don't want to be pissing us off even  _more_ , now do you?" John commented in amusement as he released Gail.

"I don't think you  _need_  me around to be perpetually pissed, John," Gail noted, smirking and rolling her eyes. "By the way, what the heck is on your face? These glasses are about as thick as your head!"

"Oh, sod off, will you!? I  _like_  them..." John exclaimed defensively.

Gail went on to playfully mess with John's glasses, both of them snickering and deep in their own private world.

Paul, watching intently from a distance next to Isabel, rolled his eyes in mild annoyance at John and Gail's exuberant display of affection. There was a subtle expression on Paul's face that Isabel couldn't place.

"You look positively  _gorgeous_ , love, you're glowing!" John remarked with a grin, looking her over. "I can imagine you're having quite a bit of trouble keeping the boys away..."

Gail cast her eyes downward as she smiled and bit her lip shyly, "Actually, I've been seeing someone..."

The conversation seemed to pause for a quick beat, but John wasn't visibly deterred.

"Aw, who's got you all hot in the pants now?" he teased.

Gail blushed and touched her face, "Oh, he's no one! Just someone I've been getting acquainted with down at the office..."

John narrowed his eyes and rubbed his chin, "Acquainted with, huh? You failed to mention this in any of your postcards..."

Gail shrugged innocently, "Must've slipped my mind..."

"Wait, John, you and Gail have been exchanging postcards..?" Paul questioned hesitantly.

"Oh, yeah. There's been some correspondence going on back and forth between us for the past few months..." John answered simply.

"You know, you could've written to  _me_  every once in a blue moon..." Paul pouted to Gail.

"Maybe I just had nothing to say to you, Paul..." Gail tersely retorted, eyeing him briefly.

In the background, George and Ringo once again winced and simultaneously shared a look that seemed to say... _yikes_.

"Speaking of your work, Gail, how's it going down at Reed Publishing?" Ringo piped up, attempting to alleviate the sudden tension.

"Oh, psh, I'm only Alec Reed's  _star_ writer!" Gail replied brashly. "It's hard to get the poor man to stop gushing about me!"

"That's amazing, Gail! What have you written?" Ringo proceeded to ask.

"Oh, nothing special, really! Just the next Great Novel, that's all! Dickens and Hemingway are weeping..."

"Oh, really?" Paul raised an eyebrow. "What's it called?"

"Well, if you must know,  _Paul_ ," Gail retorted sharply. "It's called  _Torn Between Two_ , and it's not autobiographical AT ALL..."

John's face scrunched up in confusion, "Funny, I haven't seen any book of yours on the shelves--"

"It's not out yet!" Gail snapped, interrupting him. "I mean, not all of us can become famous rockstars in a  _day_ , some of us need to pace ourselves!" she chuckled nervously.

"...It didn't take a  _day_..." John mumbled under his breath, his eyes widened at her outburst. "You, of all people, would know that..."

"Regardless!" Gail pressed on adamantly. "This book is going to be  _big_!"

John wrinkled his nose in repulsion, "...Came back with a  _swollen_  head, didja?"

Gail shrugged as she rubbed her fingernails against her blouse and fixed her gaze on the lads, "Guess I need one to keep up with the biggest egos in the industry..."

Utterly mystified, John snuck a glance at Paul. Paul glanced back with a pointed look saying,  _Don't look at me! You created this monster!_

Just then, audio engineer Geoff Emerick caught Gail's eye as he casually passed by.

"Wait a minute. I remember you!" Gail blurted out excitedly, startling Geoff. "You used to be Norman Smith's assistant! I spotted you from time to time around the studio when you were just a little cherub teenager!"

Geoff looked down bashfully as his face reddened, "I remember you, too. Gail, right? I'm...actually an engineer now."

"Really? That's terrific!" Gail cheered.

Geoff nodded shyly and went on his way. Mal Evans then became visible, following Geoff on his path.

His bushy eyebrows elevated in both shock and recognition, "Gail!?"

"Mal! I think I've only spoken to you like twice!" Gail chuckled in an ungainly fashion. "And knowing my reputation around here, maybe that's a good thing!" she mumbled, thinking aloud.

"... _There's_  that awkward sense of humor the boys fell in love with..." Mal chirped back, ruffling her hair as he walked past.

Subsequently, Brian Epstein appeared behind him, carrying boxes.

"Gail Greene!?" his eyes bugged out momentarily as he approached her. "Good, you're here. Take these..." he proceeded to hand Gail the boxes and then darted behind Mal.

"Heh-heh, I guess some things never change..." Gail mused as she strained to carry what was just unloaded on her.

"Here, let me take those..." George offered with a shrewd smile.

"Thanks," Gail answered with a grateful smile of her own, handing him the boxes.

"No problem. Hey, remember that day when you lost our clothes and we all ended up half-naked in a park?" George recounted, holding back fitful snickers.

Isabel's face contorted, horrified, but no one noticed.

Gail's eyes narrowed sternly, "Don't remind me. That somehow ended up being both the best and worst day of my life..."

George nodded, smirking, but then abruptly paused to stifle several sneezes into his shirt.

Gail's eyes widened in concern, "Are you guys getting sick? Do I need to break out the  _VapoRub_  again?"

Hearing all this, Isabel was now more perplexed than ever.  _Was she really so close and intimate with the boys that she would rub their bare chests with medicine and and then get naked with them in the park..?_

"Ugh, come to think of it, this place is filthy! There's dust and mold everywhere! What kind of secretary is this!?" Gail noted in outrage.

"I know, right!?" George quipped. "She doesn't even make out with us or give us pleasure..."

Gail's eyes narrowed unappreciatively at George's sarcastic remark.

At this point, Isabel definitely felt like she was missing something; her head was spinning from all the things that were being said at once, all the suggestive dialogue.

"Don't say that, Geo, it was never like that! Ol' Abbie here is our friend  _without_  benefits!" John razzed, smacking Gail on the back lightly.

Unable to extrapolate the deeper meaning of John's flippant label for their ever so enigmatic guest, Isabel bit her lip and exhaled curtly.

"Oh, hello! Who's this?" Gail smiled warmly at Isabel, finally detecting her presence. "Sorry, I didn't see you there! Are... _you_  the new secretary..?" she stuck her hand out at her, tittering uneasily.

"This is Isabel," Paul explained tepidly. "She's...living with me."

Gail's eyes widened in slight confusion, "Oh, you mean you finally broke up with that  _bitch_ , Ja--"

George and Ringo quickly signaled Gail with panicked looks and cutting hand gestures begging her to drop the topic.

Isabel's eyebrows raised in alarm.  _Broke up..?_ Her heart unexpectedly began to race in her chest, surging powerfully and throbbing painfully.

Paul, as well, began to panic. At the moment, he wasn't well-equipped to go into detail about Isabel's exact circumstances, nor was he comfortable discussing their current indefinite relationship status.

He cleared his throat loudly, "She, uh, needed a place to stay, so I..."

"He graciously offered it to her!" Ringo spoke up in an attempt to save Paul.

Gail's eyes narrowed in suspicion as her expression darkened and her voice ever so slightly tapered off, "Always the gentleman, huh, Paul..?"

Paul gazed downward and turned bright red, looking almost as if he might cry, just barely holding himself together.

"It's very nice to meet you, Gail!" Isabel blurted out as sweetly as she could muster, her hand finally reaching back out to hers. "I haven't been here very long, but the boys went into  _quite_  the frenzy at the mere mention of you..."

Gail's face softened at this and she began to simper faintly, "Is that  _so_..?"

"Yeah, the lady who replaced you is old and slow and her tea isn't as good. Why'd you have to go and  _leave_!?" John expressed in a playfully whiny voice.

Gail chuckled, "Sorry, I had to go live my dream..."

" _Eeeeep_! A spider!!!!" Ringo shrieked and flailed wildly, attempting to avoid the small critter's path.

The remaining lads, all deathly afraid of spiders, promptly began to freak out with him.

Gail sighed and rolled her eyes, "I'm on it..."

She casually walked over to where the offending creature was located and proceeded to stomp it several times with her foot, grunting mercilessly and ferociously as she did so.

Afterward, there was a collective sigh of relief from the four musicians.

"You were always the best at maiming spiders, Gail..." Ringo remarked, smiling gratefully.

Gail placed her hands on her hips and smirked triumphantly, but then took on a horrified expression when she witnessed the mess and clutter laying all around her; so much work was being left undone.

Instinctively, she began to rapidly clean the surrounding area. Seeing as she did not have a rag on her, she had to make do with the scrunched up tail of her blouse.

"Oh, look, Gail's malfunctioning..." George mentioned idly.

"Would you like me to fetch you anything, George? Some tea? A biscuit? It's about that time of the day, you know!" she offered with a mindless chuckle, morphing into full-work mode.

George sneered in amusement, "That's alright, Gail..."

"Are you sure? It's no trouble!" Gail insisted as she turned towards the kitchen.

John gripped her arm, " _Relax_ , Abbie, you're our friend, you no longer work for us..."

"No, you don't understand!" Gail yelped and briskly swiped her arm away, getting increasingly flustered. "If George doesn't have some kind of snack by noon, he gets peckish and grouchy! And then if one of you is in a bad mood, you're  _all_  in a bad mood and then you can't finish your songs in time and, and, and..."

Ringo sneezed loudly, interrupting Gail's nervous ramble, and John followed suit as he hacked vociferously into his sleeve.

"You see!? You guys are all falling apart without me..." Gail then spotted the aforementioned older lady who had taken her place, strolling in a carefree manner around the studio.

"Listen,  _you_ ," she began fiercely, pointing as she approached her replacement. "You're supposed to  _wash_ the mugs! Now you've gotten them all sick!"

"Oh, well,  _excuse_ me," the new secretary fired back. "I'm sorry I don't woo them and wipe their individual asses like  _you_  do!"

Gail scoffed, dark red, looking as if she was about to boil over, "Lady, I'll throw you into an old folk's home!"

John's laughter could be heard in the background.

Gail brusquely turned towards him, "What? You think this is  _funny_!?"

"Kinda, yeah..." John said, still chuckling. "She sure told  _you_ , didn't she..?

Gail slumped in defeat, "...Yeah, she did."

"By the way, I'm sorry it took me a little while to come out and see you when you first got here," John stated, now more softly. "I had some... _business_  to take care of..."

"I threw up, too," Gail replied bluntly. "Before seeing you..."

John's eyebrows shot up in surprise, "Really? What did you have to be so worried about? It's just  _me_...just us."

Gail stammered as her cheeks turned slightly pink, "I-I was afraid that..."

"You were afraid I'd moved on..?" John smirked, testing her.

"No! Shut up, John!" Gail barked back defensively.

John snickered endearingly, "You haven't changed a bit!"

"Well, what about  _you_?" Gail bounced back, crossing her arms. "What had  _you_  so tied up that you spent ten minutes in the bathroom?"

"Why can I say?" John retorted. "The thought of your bewitching demeanor along with your sexy, perky body made me ill..."

Gail laughed boastfully, "Oh, please. Just admit it, you're still  _crazy_  about me!"

"I am," John affirmed simply, no traces of humor in his voice. "But the question remains...are we going to pick up where we left off?"

Everything went silent for a few beats, until Brian abruptly came barging in.

"Boys, would you be willing to go on a little field trip?"

"That depends. Where to, Eppy?" Ringo asked.

"Haha,  _yeah_ , Eppy!" Gail chimed in eagerly.

Brian turned to Gail, staring funnily at her.

"No..?" Gail smiled nervously. "We're not at that point yet? Okay!"

Brian shook his head and chuckled to himself, "To the thrift shop and then the hardware store! I've had a few friends design some specially-made wardrobes and furniture for you guys!"

"Seems legit," George spoke up with a small smile.

"Glad you think so!" Brian asserted as he stepped out of the room. "Be in your disguises in half an hour -- you can come too, Gail!"

"Ace!" Gail cried out in excitement.

"Great, Gail! Maybe you can tell me how well or how badly I pull off vintage clothes!" Paul suggested light-heartedly.

"Well, aren't  _you_  charming..?" Gail dead-panned, unamused. She then accidentally locked eyes with John, causing her to break into a mild sweat. "We'll deal with... _this_...later..."

"Great, now I'm ' _this'_..." John lamented.

"...I'm  _not_  gonna get involved in that," Isabel decided aloud, eying John and Gail curiously.

"That's a good idea," Paul rolled his eyes in consensus, patting her hand.

"I think I need a smoke," John announced gruffly. "Anyone care to join me?"

"I'll be right there, mate!" Paul responded. "Isabel, dear, why don't you wait in the hallway? I'll be right back..."

Silently, Isabel nodded. This was too much excitement for one day.

~~~

Gail found herself alone with George. Ringo lingered in the background, but his focus had already shifted to putting his drums back up and practicing his paradiddles.

"Oh, George! Why did I insert myself back into this situation?" Gail moaned as Isabel as the two lads walked off.

George offered Gail a sympathetic smile and extended his arms to hug her.

"Thanks," Gail muttered as she wholeheartedly embraced him. "I really needed that."

"It's good to have you back, Greene!" George expressed with a smirk and a shake of the head.

"It's good to  _be_ back, George!" Gail replied graciously. "Oh, and hey, congrats on getting married to Pattie!"

George went quiet for a second as he gazed downward uneasily.

"Yeah, about that..."

"I DID IT!!! YEAH! DID YOU GUYS HEAR THAT!?" Ringo rejoiced as he aced his drum fill.

George chuckled softly, "Yes, we heard it, Rings..."

~~~

"That Abbie Greene! She's really somethin'. I never know what side of her I'm gonna get next!" John mused, dazzled, as he blew out a hazy cloud of smoke.

"She has a new boyfriend, you know..." Paul gently reminded him, tapping his cigarette.

"Don't be daft, Paul, it's just a fling. Just an aside she made to get a rise out of me! Y'know, Geo's right, she really  _is_  a scamp!" John bewailed, taking a strong drag on his fag.

"You rang?" George popped his head out, grinning.

Paul's eyes narrowed skeptically, "I'm just saying she's not all innocent, John."

John blew out another cloud of smoke, "Yeah? Neither are you and we still deal with  _your_  shit. Both me  _and_  Abbie..."

"Oh, you wanna go  _there_ , do you, mate?" Paul challenged, raising an eyebrow.

"You know what you did," John aired icily.

Paul sighed and looked down, a look of guilt and vanquishment etched on his face.

"Excuse me a moment, lads..." he finally said as he made his way back inside.

~~~

"Gail..?" Paul uttered softly.

Gail looked up from where she was sitting idly. No words, no expression on her face, just an empty stare.

He attempted a coy smile, pressing down his emotions, "I missed you, Gail. You know that right? I missed you like hell. And not just for the tea."

Gail sighed gravely, "I know, Paul..."

"Is everyone getting dressed!?" Brian called out.

Gail looked Paul straight in the eye, "You should go get ready."

And with that, she walked off.

~~~

Still outside, John peevishly leaned his back against the wall, frustrated.

"John, can I say something?" George spoke up.

"Shoot," John allowed brusquely, not looking at him.

"Look, you know I love Gail and I think you're... _alright_...and you know what? Yeah, admittedly, there's a part of me that sees you two and thinks you look cute together, but..."

John looks up at him helplessly, knowing what he's about to say.

George exhales shortly before continuing, "We both know Gail is a free spirit, and at the end of the day, she's gonna do what  _she_  wants to do..."

John groaned softly and lowered his head to his hands, "I know..." 

 


	6. Unfinished Business

After a few long moments patiently biding her time in the hallway, Isabel realized that Paul and the rest of them probably wouldn't be out and ready anytime soon. When she peered back inside, she saw that they were all lounging around in a relaxed manner. Though the initial discomfiture regarding Gail's presence had not yet completely dissipated, there was a definite sense of familiarity and camaraderie between her and the boys that allowed them to temporarily sidestep any overarching tension.

"So, see if you can picture this, Gail -- Paul's far gone, Ringo has a lampshade on his head, my trousers are split down the middle and 'ol Johnny-boy's only concerned with winning the bet..." George recounted in a no-nonsense tone, smirking subtly.

"Get  _out_  of here!!" Gail interjected, fervidly getting into the story.

"Meanwhile, it's already half past one, none of us are coherent enough to hail for a cab, the place wreaks of Paul's inability to hold down his liquor..."

"Oh, gosh, who was there to clean up that  _mess_?" Gail questioned, her eyes wide with concern.

"No one," George replied.

"No one!?" Gail exclaimed, taking offense. "Does that bloody hag think being a secretary is just a 9-5 job!?"

"Gail, focus!" George snapped.

"Sorry," Gail muttered softly.

"That's just one of the many incidents that have happened since you've been gone, Gail," Ringo noted with a smile.

"Well, as much as I would've enjoyed being there to witness your endearingly juvenile antics, I simply couldn't postpone my calling any longer. I'm a  _writer_!" Gail stated dramatically.

Everyone promptly groaned and rolled their eyes in response to this. This was the sixth time she'd mentioned her writing profession in one sitting.

"Yeah, yeah, Miss Puffer!" Paul spoke up as he shook his head and baited her with a sly, provocative wink.  "Now, do what you do best and make me a cuppa..."

"Ha-ha,  _watch_  it, Macca..." Gail's voice nearly rose to a shriek, warning Paul. Though outwardly she laughed, her biting tone gave away that she was the complete opposite of amused.

"Damn!" George blurted out, chuckling and wincing slightly. "And here I thought Johnny was the only one who called him that..."

"I usually am..." John remarked somberly.

"You're right, you're right, George," Gail acknowledged, simpering. "To me, you'll always be the boys.  _My_  boys."

Before anything more could be said, Brian's voice blasted through the studio:  ** _"Hope you lads are ready, we leave in 5!"_**

"Aw, man! We don't even have on our disguises yet!" Ringo pouted.

"Well, looks like we better get on with that, then," John stated matter-of-factly.

His shoulders haphazardly rubbed against Gail's as he got up and shifted from where he was seated. For a brief moment, their eyes met and he raised a wry eyebrow at her.

" _Later_! I said we'd deal with this  _later_! Quit smothering me!!!" Gail barked, defensively reacting to his touch.

"That's fine, Abbie. Christ, no need to act so prickly!" John fired back as he rolled his eyes and helped Gail up with his hand.

"Is everybody ready..?" Brian stepped in and flashed a knowing smile, almost as if he was vaguely invested and riveted with the conversation that was transpiring in front of him.

"Just about, Eppy," John replied with a sneer.

"And what about you, Miss Greene?" Brian posed, turning to beam at Gail. "How's our trusty secretary holding up?"

"Hey,  _former_  secretary!" Gail corrected him in a snappy sing-song voice. "I'm a  _writer_  now!"

More groans could be heard faintly in the background.

Brian chuckled, seemingly charmed at her over-the-top theatrics, "Quite right, Gail. My mistake..."

John gazed intensely at Gail, narrowing his eyes mischievously.

"... _What_!?" Gail snapped, still on the defensive.

John's lips quirked into a smile, "Nothing..."

"I wasn't even  _that_  good a secretary! I was  _so_  unprofessional..." Gail mused with a smirk, rolling her eyes.

"Happens to the best of us," John supplied with a smug grin. "Hell, even your new middle-aged replacement can't resist stealing a smooch from time to time..."

Gail scoffed and swatted playfully at John's arm, "You're such a brat!"

"Hey!" John guffawed. "Cut it out! My fragile limbs can't take the abuse!"

"Oh, so now you're a brat  _and_  a wimp!" Gail retorted, pertly placing her hands on her hips.

"You're changing the subject!" John astutely noted. "So, you mean to tell me you have no ties to your old life at all..?"

Gail's eyes narrowed in suspicion, "This feels like a loaded question, John..."

"It's not, I  _swear_!" John insisted. "It's just, you seemed to slip right back into that 'mode' as soon as you got here..."

" _What_  mode!? John, what are you even on about!?" Gail demanded in a shrill tone.

"Abbie..." John lowered his voice and directed her attention to her absentmindedly working hands, impulsively scrubbing at the edge of a flat surface with a stray cloth.

Gail looked down and winced, annoyed with herself, as she realized what she was doing, "...Goddamnit!"

John stifled a gleeful chuckle.

"Stop it! It's  _not_  funny!" Gail turned away from him and crossed her arms, flustered.

"Oh, come on, Abbie, lighten up, it is a  _little_  funny..." John coaxed, lightly grazing her shoulder blade.

"I don't have to put up with this, you know!" Gail snarled once again at his touch, turning back towards him.

"Put up with  _what_?" John fixed his eyes on hers as he raised his eyebrow suggestively.

Gail broke into a sweat, responding to his proximity, unable to resist leaning closer, "This...this..."  _Torture. Confusion. Uncertainty._ "This hogwash!"

"Whatever you say, sweetheart..." John hummed, a droll expression on his face as his eyes darted to her lips and instinctively closed in on them.

For a moment, everything slowed as the outside world melted around them. Then, just as their mouths were about to make contact...

" _LATER!!!_ We'll deal with this _later_!!!" Gail suddenly yelped in spite of herself, leaving John behind in a dash.

~~~

As George and Ringo prepared for their outing and put the finishing touches on their disguises, they overheard Paul and John bickering over a retreaded topic.

**_"I don't know why you keep insisting on bringing this up, John!"_ **

**_"The song is stupid and prancy!"_ **

**_"You liked it when I showed it to you yesterday!"_ **

**_"Yeah? I was probably high off my arse then!"_ **

The firing back-and-forth continued to escalate, becoming increasingly louder by the second. Gail, who had also been listening in on the row, gave George and Ringo a confused, frightened look.

George locked eyes with Gail and smiled weakly, shaking his head slightly.

"They've been at it like that since you left. It used to always be over something minor and inconsequential, but lately they've been getting more intense..."

Gail hesitated for a moment, debating whether or not she should voice her concern at the risk of sounding vain and self-centered.

"It's not...because of  _me_ , is it?"

George replied with what looked to be a cross between a smile and a smirk as he shook his head in dissent.

"It's not you, love," Ringo reassured her. "Hell, the only thing they can agree on is that they both bloody fooking  _missed_  you..."

"Yes, Gail, regardless of what anyone says or how anyone acts, we're all  _ecstatic_  to see you again!" George asserted.

Gail sighed and looked down, "Thanks, guys, but I'm not gonna pretend my being here isn't awkward and that I'm not already wreaking some havoc..."

"John,  _please_  don't be like this..." Paul pleaded softly as the door flung open and he followed John out of the room.

"I'll be however I damn please, Macca! Now do everyone a favor and put a proverbial sock in it!"

"In  _what_..?" Ringo cocked his head in confusion.

John grumbled in response as he briskly moved forward. His head perked slightly, however, when he spotted Gail.

Immediately upon meeting his gaze, Gail's eyes widened and she bit down hard on her lip as she began to fidget anxiously.

"Um, g-gotta go, guys!" she stuttered out as she, once again, dashed away.

John's eyes narrowed sternly. He looked over to see George and Ringo staring up at him, feigning innocence.

~~~

Isabel couldn't stomach overhearing all the mindless chatter for too long. Fraught with the direction the conversations were heading in, she opted to wait outside where at least the pleasant sights and sounds of nature could be of some companionship.

When Paul finally came out, fully-disguised, she couldn't help smiling as she brought a hand to her mouth and chortled lightly.

Paul's eyes promptly lit up when he saw her, "What's got you in such a chirpy mood, my dear?"

"That's the same disguise you wore when we met!" Isabel pointed out as she permitted a wholesome giggle to escape.

Paul looked down and intently inspected his get-up, his fake beard comically hanging off of his chin. Looking back up with a grin, he replied, "Yes, I suppose it is..."

Beaming as she followed him, Isabel was glad to see Paul's loose, happy demeanor was back again. She decided to take advantage of his relaxed state of mind, hoping it would allow her to pry a bit deeper into the current situation.

"Paul, what can you tell me about Gail?" she blurted out.

Instantly, Paul's mood shifted. Pausing his pace for a brief second, his eyelids drooped and he bit his lip in contemplation.

"Gail?" his voice chimed innocently, as if it was his first time hearing that name. "She's a brain  _and_  a beauty. She's smarter than the rest of us but she pretends not to be..."

Isabel's eyes narrowed. He was being coy with her, purposely keeping things vague.

Paul's head then turned back towards her, their eyes meeting, "Why do you ask..?"

Isabel's pupils distended at his scrutiny and her heart suddenly began to palpitate, "Well, frankly, I feel I know next to nothing about her -- except that she apparently used to work here, correct..?"

Paul grunted, barely responding as he persisted to charge ahead of her.

Hobbling behind him, Isabel audibly gulped. She was quickly convincing herself that Gail's presence was something she had every reason to be personally concerned about. There was clearly a thread here that was being left unraveled. Even if Paul was unwilling to go into any details about their mysterious guest, Isabel was determined to get to the bottom of it.

~~~

Though still slightly unsettled, Gail loosened up a fair bit around Ringo and George as they all strolled on their way to their destination.

"Ringo, you slow poke! Try to keep up!" George commented in between fitful snickers.

"I'm trying! You know I'm not a leg man!" Ringo retorted, equally tickled.

"If you believe in yourself hard enough, you can be, Rings!" George countered teasingly.

"Yes, just  _believe_ , Ringo, it worked for me!" Gail chimed in, smiling.

"It can't be that simple..." Ringo remarked doubtfully.

"To hell if it ain't, Richard!" George stated passionately.

"Why can't you just accept my slow and steady self, Geo-uh-hmm..." Ringo reflected as he tapped his chin pensively. "George isn't short for anything..."

"I'm just pushing you to be your best, mate!" George said in reply as he playfully shoved Ringo's back.

"Knock it off!" Ringo chuckled. "You're gonna make me run into the lady!"

"Gail's not a lady..." George quipped, sneering and raising his eyebrow mischievously.

Gail scoffed and shoved George back, "Shut up! I'm as lady-like as they come!"

George shook his head with a sly grin, "Tsk, tsk, pity if that's the case..."

As Gail, George and Ringo continued to giggle and outwit each other, they didn't notice who was approaching them from behind.

"Hey, Abbie!" John spouted mirthfully.

Gail flinched and gasped tensely, "John! Quit stalking me!!"

"You always attack me when you feel threatened..." John said with a smirk, endeared to the effect he was having on her.

"Oh,  _do_  I?" Gail rejoined. "Maybe I have a right to feel threatened, given that you haven't taken your menacing eyes off of me ever since I've gotten here..."

John shrugged, "What can I say? The view is great. I love to see that tight little ass!"

Gail rolled her eyes, smiling sternly at his attempt to provoke her, "As I recall, you seemed to enjoy it even more when you slapped it at Mo's house..."

John grinned, "Hey, now, that's not fair! I was hammered that night!"

"Well, it's great that you can get out of _your_  tree. Now, can you get out of  _mine_..?" Gail's voice increased in pitch, her overall anxiety and agitation getting the better of her.

John abruptly stopped as his voice softened and a serious expression overtook his face, "Abbie, it's okay. You know I'm just winding you up, I don't really mean it..."

"John! I just wish you'd--" Gail broke a sweat as her heart began to pound. She didn't know what she meant. She didn't know what she wanted. All she could do was run, averting her head as she attempted to swallow the muddled tears that threatened to come out.

~~~

In all of her frenzy to get away from John, Gail didn't notice the towering figure she bolted right past.

"It's good to see you again, Gail..." Neil Aspinall, the boys' longtime roadie, expressed plainly.

"Oh!" Gail squeaked with a start at the low rumble of his voice, feeling herself freeze in place as he closed in on her space. "...H-hi, Neil..." she greeted him shakily.

All of a sudden, she felt a pressing hand on the small of her back, urging her to move. She found herself walking briskly past him even though her legs previously wouldn't let her. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she saw that it was Paul who was guiding her out of Neil's way.

In a daze, the stony-faced Paul disappeared from Gail's sight. Before she could fully process what happened, she realized they had all made it to the thrift shop.

~~~

"Now, remember boys, you're only allowed to try on the outfits and accessories my colleague has laid out for you. Everything else is off-limits, understand?"

" _Yes, Brian,_ " the four lads muttered begrudgingly. 

" _Those_  are my good boys!" Brian acknowledged. His gaze shifted briefly to Gail. Though she was no longer under any obligation to follow his orders, his eyes gently urged her to keep an eye on them. Gail blinked once and nodded, automatically in understanding.

Paul, John, George and Ringo continued to stare longingly at the forbidden attire. 

"Man, those caps hanging there look right smashing, don't they?" Paul pouted.

"Hmph," John grumbled. "Figures ol' Eppy would keep the best stuff away from us! What a stingy bastard!"

"Hey, hey!" Gail interjected. "Brian said to keep your hands off of those garbs, so keep your grimy hands off of them!"

"Oh, lighten up, Gail," George chided, shaking his head. "Surely, there must be something you want in there too..."

"It doesn't matter!" Gail insisted. "You guys always have everything handed to you, it's time you learn some discipline and self-restraint!"

"Oh, you mean like with you and your work friend..?" John retorted bitterly with a roll of his eyes.

Gail's face fumed in red as her fists tightened, " _Shut up_ , John!!"

"We're getting off-topic," George stated flatly. "Now how are we going to sneak in those costumes?"

"What we need to do is divert Brian's attention just long enough for us to nick 'em..." Paul chimed in.

"Hmm," Ringo pondered, tapping his chin. "Who do we know who's a pretty bird who can create a ruse and distract him..?"

Suddenly, everyone's gaze shifted towards Gail. Her eyes promptly widened and she gasped slightly. "NOPE! No, I did  _NOT_ sign up for this!"

Paul and John eagerly took it upon themselves to carry her away.

" _STOP_  IT! LET ME GO!!" Gail squirmed and fidgeted in protest.

At the sound of her shrill cry, John and Paul's eyes met and they both silently agreed that this was not the best approach.

"Pipe down, will ya!? He'll hear ye!" John groused as he set her down. 

"You know, this could classify as assault!" Gail remarked, dusting off her now wrinkled sleeves. 

"We're shaking in our boots, dear," Paul deadpanned, causing Gail to glare menacingly at him. 

"Gail, we don't ask much of you, just please take Eppy off our hands for a few minutes..." George expressed, calmly attempting to reason with her.

Gail put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow, "Well, what's in it for  _me_..?"

"I don't know, a fountain pen!?" Everyone looked curiously as George. "What? That's what writers like, yeah?"

"I'll tell you what, Abbie. You do this for us, I'll plant a nice, juicy fat one on your lips!" John grinned at his own suggestion.

Gail glared at him but with good nature, "For  _me_ , John, what's in it for  _me_!?"

"We'll give you a starring role in our next movie!" Paul shot up. 

Gail paused thoughtfully, "You know, you guys  _do_  owe me that much. I didn't even get a flippin'  _cameo_ role in A Hard Day's Night!"

"So, do we have a deal?" George asked. 

"No, actually we're just good friends!" Gail let out a boisterous laugh, causing everyone to stare in bewilderment.

"I'm sorry, that wasn't a cogent response to what you said, I just wanted to quote the movie!" Gail explained sheepishly. "Yes, we have a deal!"

~~~

"Brian! I need your input immediately!" Gail called out. She swiftly turned to the boys, giving them two thumbs up and winking excitedly.

Brian proceeded to approach her in a slightly confused daze, "Yes, Gail, what is it?"

Gail's eyes widened as her heart halted in panic, ".......Um, if a tree falls, does it make a sound..?"

The band reacted to this manner of stalling with varying levels of amusement and befuddlement.

In response, Brian grimaced. "Um...I would imagine so, Gail--"

"No, wait, wait! I got that wrong!" Gail exclaimed, interrupting his train of thought. "It goes, 'if a tree falls in the middle of the forest and no one is around to hear it,  _then_ does it make a sound'..?"

Brian's lips pursed as he began to lose his patience, "Gail, why are you wasting my time with these nonsensical quandaries? Where are the boys?"

All of a sudden, the distinct rattling of a door could be heard echoing through the thrift shop. 

 _"Drat! It's locked!"_ John cursed in a hush.

"Not making a sound, I would hope!" Gail replied, sternly raising her tone.

Brian blinked blankly at her, "I've had enough of this, Gail." He assertively walked away from the commotion.

"Gail, come help us open this door!" George requested. 

Rolling her eyes and sighing in resign, she bent down and attempted to pick the lock.

John grinned, "Man, I sure missed watching that bum walk up and down the studio!"

"Got any more wry comments about my bum, John?" Gail questioned in aggravation.

"I could write a whole ode to it, my dear!" John cracked with a proud smirk. 

Gail turned to him abruptly, "Listen, you can keep the international lady-killer rockstar persona but writing...is  _my_ thing!"

John snorted in merriment, "Understood, miss..."

"Are you sure your thing isn't improvisational riddles?" Ringo winked at her. 

George chortled, "Yes, tell me Gail, if a tree falls on your head and no one is around to laugh at you..." 

"Oh,  _enough_!" Gail scoffed, holding back a smile. "You Looney Tunes..."

"In all seriousness, thank you for helping us out, Gail!" Ringo mentioned with gratitude. 

"Oh, it's nothing!" Gail shook her head and waved it off, beaming. "I  _adore_  you guys..."

Finally, Gail managed to pick the lock and opened the door, revealing a paradise of colorful costumes.   

~~~

"I want this one!" Ringo excitedly declared as he placed a feathered hat atop his head.

"Uh, no, I think you mean  _I_  want this one!" George corrected Ringo as he snatched the hat from his head.

"Come now, George, let Starkey have this! He's due for a victory and he's in desperate need of a sense of style..." Paul remarked in a jokingly posh manner.

John rolled his eyes and scoffed in dry amusement, "Oh, like  _you_  have it all put together, Macca. What  _you_  need is a good dose of reality!"

"We're Beatles! What do  _we_  know about reality?" George pointed out.

"Oh, don't you start with your spiritual, rhetorical shit, Geo!" John bawled.

"Oh, I'm sorry, John, did you want to discusssomething  _else_..?" George bit back, his eyes subtly and sardonically darting towards Gail.

"Let's talk about how ace I look in this hat!" Ringo piped up joyously.

"Well," Paul snagged the hat from Ringo's head and placed it atop his own. " _That_  was a short conversation."

"Hey! I thought you were gonna let me  _'have this'_!" Ringo protested.

"I  _want_  this," Paul answered simply.

"Why don't we make up the difference and just stack the rest of the hats on Ritchie's head!?" John suggested impassively, flinging one towards the group.

Rapidly, the three Beatles started hurling hats toward Ringo's face. A few of them managed to land on the peak of his head. John, cracking up with the rest of the lads, tied a bonnet on top for good measure.

Even after all this time, the boys still had a tremendous energy about them; such spirit and chemistry with one another. Gail couldn't help but smile and shake her head at their familiar, heartwarming antics. As she watched them from afar, she realized she missed them more than she cared to admit.

"Gail, come help me pick out a hat!" Paul called out to her.

Gail's eyes widened for a moment before she mindlessly moved towards him, "Well, already, I can tell you that is  _not_  your color..."

Paul's eyes twinkled as he beamed softly at her, "Oh, yeah..?"

Gail tittered as she messed with his hat and hair, "Yeah, who told you you could match red and green like that..? Dear God, I hope you're not going out in public looking like this..."

"Hey, now," Paul arched his eyebrows together in slight offense, grinning as he defensively shielded his choice in head-wear. "So, what do  _you_  propose I wear for this shoot?"

" _Hmm_ ,"

Already, Gail was scattering through the pile of hats, deep in concentration. She tried them all on Paul's head, one by one, contemplating which look was the best.

"Have you decided on a look yet..?" Paul asked, playfully poking her side.

Gail's face turned red as she bent down and began to giggle uncontrollably, "Paul, cut it out!"

" _Make_  me!" Paul challenged, his tone overtly flirtatious.

Meanwhile, Isabel sat quietly in a corner, watching sadly. 

"Ugh! I'm getting back into that  _mode_  again!!!" Gail suddenly exclaimed, chiding herself in realization.

" _What_  mode..?" Paul raised his eyebrow in confusion.

"I'm a  _writer_ , I'm capable of so much more than this! I'm not just here to be your handmaiden!"

"I don't know, I'd say your quite  _good_  at it..." Paul smiled impishly, poking her side yet again.

" _Stop_  it! Ugh, you're both exactly the same! You think you can manipulate me with your looks and charms to get whatever you want! Well, it's not gonna work this time!" Gail screamed, visibly fed up.

Paul's eyes flickered with hurt, "Gail, I..."

"No! Save it! You really think you can just act like nothing's changed? Like you didn't hurt me?" Gail's voice cracked as it raised. "I didn't come back just so you could play with my heart and boss me around again!"

"What's going on here..?" John asked in concern as he approached them.

 _"WE'LL DEAL WITH THIS LATER!!!"_  Gail screeched at John, storming off.

  ~~~  

John stood momentarily in disbelief, scowling at Paul.  "...What did you do!? Fucking  _traumatize_ her!?" 

"No, mate, your pushy shit is probably what put her on edge!" Paul spouted angrily. 

Isabel leaned her back against the wall, listening in on their heated exchange, her heart pounding.

All of a sudden, John's mouth gaped slightly at his bandmate and his expression softened. "...Wait, are you  _crying_..?"

Paul sniffled and rubbed at his glistening left doe eye.

"Paul, you  _never_  cry..." John stifled a chuckle, both shocked and endeared to his friend's emotional reaction.

~~~

Upon overhearing this, Isabel ran off, barely fighting back a sob. It was beyond apparent that everyone was going gaga over Gail, and Isabel couldn't help feeling it was at her expense. As if she didn't already feel left out and ignored before Gail showed up, now she nearly felt non-existent. There was something about the way Gail referred to the band as " _her boys_ ," the ease with which she interacted with them, that made her heart twinge with jealousy. And Paul practically melted into a pile of good over Gail; he demanded her attention...

All of a sudden, her shapely physique was scorching against her light sundress. She frantically fanned her face, her chest tightening as she struggled to gather enough oxygen in her lungs. Her surroundings appeared to be swirling around, all of the colors blending rapidly, as if her world were being stirred by a gigantic spoon. She sensed that her body was moving, gliding, floating away, but she was not in control of her movements.  _Was she going to faint?_

" _Are you okay..?_ " a soft voice uttered, jolting her back to reality. 

Isabel blinked a few times as her blurred vision slowly came back into focus. Two intimate blue eyes stared back at her.  _Ringo._

"Yes, I'm okay," Isabel answered absently. "I think..."

"Don't scare me like that, love, you almost went and bloody ghosted on me!" Ringo quipped in relief, chuckling lightly. 

Taking in a deep, much-needed breath, Isabel casually began to iron out the tufts of her dress with her long, nimble fingers. 

"It's good to see some of the color coming back to those pretty, little cheeks!" Ringo remarked with a beam.

All of a sudden, her breath caught as she looked back up. The thought of Ringo actually noticing her and caring enough to mention something like that made her face flush even warmer. 

Seemingly oblivious to the effect he was having, Ringo prattled on, "You know, whenever  _I'm_  feeling stressed, I often whip out my camera and snap some shots. Do you ever take pictures?"

Isabel shook her head.

Ringo's eyes crinkled, revealing his magnificent smile, "Well, you're in luck! We're headed to the hardware store now. Would you like me to guide you towards the camera section?"

Isabel nodded, her vast eyes dilated with interest. Finally, she began to feel at ease again.

~~~

"Excuse me, ma'am, can I gouge my eyes out with that pencil?" John pointed to a box of golf pencils at the hardware store as he tried to get an older lady's attention. 

"John, stop beleaguering the workers," Paul sighed.

"Why don't  _you_  stop with your fancy language, Macca..." John snipped. 

"Aw, let's liven up, lads! We won't be here too much longer now -- may as well smile for the shoot!" Ringo commented, perky as ever. 

"Ringo, you know you can untie all those hats from your head now..." Paul mentioned gravely. 

"Jealous, Paul?" Ringo's eyes twinkled as he adjusted his head wear. 

"Excuse me, ma'am, can I cut through the tension with this knife?" John asked as he lifted up a hefty diamond knife. 

" _John_!" Paul snapped. "You're  _not_  helping!" 

"Well, your incessant moping isn't helping either, mate..." George pointed out. 

" _Fine_!" Paul fumed as he shoved past him. "Maybe I'll just step out, then..."

~~~   

Paul walked and walked, storming the premises until he found the exit. He shot past Gail, who had been hiding in the other side of the store, sniveling. Noticing his anguish, she sighed and decided to follow him behind from a distance, contemplating an apology.

"Oh hey,  _there_  you are..." Paul stopped in surprise, his distress melting away as he spotted Isabel.

She was taking pictures of the bushes, not paying much mind to anything else. All of a sudden, flashes from Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No. 1 burst through his head as Isabel turned around, acknowledging him. 

Gail remained hidden as Paul sat down with Isabel on the pavement. He seized an English Daisy sprouting on the side of the road and handed it to her. They sat in silence for a moment as Isabel looked down at the flower, basking in its serenity. 

"See, this is why I like you, Isabel. I can be myself around you. I don't have to put up any fronts..." Isabel watched as Paul took a long drag from his cigarette. 

"The lot of them, in  _there_...it's all just  _noise,_ " he stated in a solemn, fragile tone, pointing to the hardware store behind him. "Being out here, with  _you_...it's a break from all the noise..."

Still watching covertly from behind the door, Gail exhaled softly. She was so engrossed with the scene unfolding in front of her that she didn't notice who was standing right beside her.

John finally spoke, "It's _later_."

~~~

The two went for a walk, upon John's request. No words were spoken and no eye contact was made for the first few minutes. 

"Haven't seen much of ye," John began. "You keep running away. Not much has changed, eh?" Though he put on a half-hearted smile, Gail could hear the bitterness in his tone.

Her stomach lurched as her mind raced back to events of the past, times when she had blown him off, running away from her feelings. 

_I can't keep avoiding him. That's what the old Gail would do._

"I wasn't ready to come back," Gail expressed, her voice low and full of regret. "I was mad at Paul for acting like nothing happened, but I guess by coming back here, I was doing the same thing. I can't just waltz in and pretend everything's fine when it's not..." 

John merely nodded in reply as he bit his lip. They eventually found a discreet corner to settle into and they both sat with their legs spread out, facing each other.

"I'm...sorry I've been yelling at you all day," Gail began as she rubbed at his foot comfortingly. "You didn't deserve that. I just...I--" 

Gail was unable to verbalize how she was feeling even though it was obvious. She gazed intently at John as he picked at the floor. This was the first time in a long while that she had a good look at him. He always looked years older than his age; hardened, weary.

"Was it because of  _me_..?" John finally looked up.

"What?" Gail snapped out of her daze.

"Did you leave because of  _me_?" John repeated.

" _No_!" Gail anxiously tittered. "I didn't leave because of you! Of  _course_  not! I left because of  _me_! I couldn't very easily accomplish my writing goals while simultaneously doing chores for Brian!"

John stared blankly at her, unconvinced. 

Gail blinked as her eyes became glassy with tears, "I...I was about to come between you and your wife. I saw the way Paul and Jane made me feel...I didn't wanna put Cyn through that..."

John nodded, biting his lip, looking downward, "...So, I guess that means anything between us  _now_  is off the table..?"

Gail's own head looked down in response, "...John, you  _know_  I have feelings for you. But you also know precisely why we can't go there. Believe it or not, I actually have some shred of morals left..."

John chuckled, "So _that's_ what this comes down to? Morals? Christ, Abbie, we haven't even done anything yet..."

"So!? That doesn't matter! It's the intent that counts!" Gail spurted. 

John stuck his nose up in scorn, "Darling, it's the sixties..."

" _So_!? What does the current decade have to do with anything!? I swear, you're  _so_  aggravating!" Gail fumed.

John couldn't help but chuckle. 

Meanwhile, Gail's tone remained grave and somber, "John, we  _can't_. It's too risky. You saw the way Paul wrecked me...I can't put myself through that again..."

"Paul moved on quickly. I didn't," John gruffed. 

"...D-did he really move on quickly..?" Gail inquired shakily as her eyes darted back to where Paul and Isabel were seated. Something about his tone implied that there was more than one woman he had 'moved on' with.John sighed, watching her grimace.

"So, what about that work mate of yours..?" he asked.

Gail simpered, "We both know that's just a  _fling_...and idle pastime..."

"Thought so..." John mused, looking relieved.

"...What?" Gail smiled a small smile. "Were you actually worried about that..?"

"A little..." John grinned sheepishly. Gail chortled in return, lightening the mood.

"...I may have left in part because of you, but I also came back because of you," she confessed, looking downward. "The whole time I was away, hard as I tried, I couldn't stop thinking about you..."

"And I stayed up many a night thinking about  _you_ , Abbie..." John replied. 

Gail nodded, "Wanking off..?"

John looked at her curiously. 

"I was just beating you to the unseemly remark..." Gail smirked with a shrug.

John shook his head in disbelief, "You confuse...and fascinate me, Abbie..."

"I confuse and fascinate myself too," Gail concurred. "And you had that effect on me, as well..."

John crinkled his brow, " _Had_?"

"Yes, past tense, that part's important!" Gail declared with a slight squeak. "You don't have that effect on me anymore, you  _can't_. But we can always be friends!"

"... _Without_  benefits..." John concluded with a scowl.

"Haha,  _there_  you go!" Gail exclaimed, playfully slapping his knee. "You already put it perfectly earlier!"

John sighed, once again shaking his head, "You  _were_  in A Hard Day's Night, by the way..."

Gail's brows perched and her mouth gaped in confusion.

"...But it was just your bum!" John sneered, to which Gail scoffed and rolled her eyes.

~~~

After their chat, the two met up with the others outside. Paul and Gail's eyes widened upon seeing each other and they looked away awkwardly. Meanwhile, John stormily flew past George and Ringo without a word. 

George looked at Gail, "What's up with  _him_?"

"Oh, he's just gone to spare because I told him we can only be friends..." Gail explained with a tentative smile. "...It's probably for the best, right..?"

George opened his mouth to speak.

"No, you're right, I'm not going to put you guys in the middle of this. It wouldn't be fair..." Gail said.

George opened his mouth to speak.

"I did the right thing! John has Cyn and Jules to think about and I'm not going through all of that heartache again..." Gail reaffirmed.

George, once again, opened his mouth to speak. Ringo also shot her a look as she rambled, his eyes narrowed knowingly.

"I'm  _not_  in denial!" Gail snapped in defense. 

"Did you and Paul sort out your issues?" George inquired.

" _What_  issues..?" Gail smiled a disturbing smile, her eyes slightly bugging out.

Ringo muffled a wince as he and George shared a quick, concerned look.

"Alright, so we have cross John, distraught Paul, Gail who's not in denial and Isabel, aka the only sane one..." George recapped. 

"Don't forget  _me_!" Ringo piped up. 

"I never could, Ringo..." George lovingly reassured him. 

"So, Gail, what's it like to be back? How did the boys hold up?" Brian asked as he came strolling back in with Mal.

"Well, the boys, or as I now like to call them, the  _annoying little shits_ ," Gail replied in between a fit of giggles. "Had a  _very_  busy day today, to put it lightly..."

"So, do they each get a kiss for their good behavior?" Mal teased with a wink. 

Though Gail hesitated for a brief moment, she decided to oblige, kissing each one of them on the cheek. She stopped, however, at Paul when a loud noise spooked her.

"Sorry," Mal's face reddened. "I spilled the golf pencils..."

"Hey, you owe me a kiss on the cheek!" Paul tested Gail with a grin.

"How's about a  _slap_  on the cheek!?" Gail countered with smirk.

"We can get cheeky at a later time..." Ringo suggested. 

Everyone laughed and Gail sighed wistfully at the banter; it almost felt like old times...

Meanwhile, John achingly rubbed the spot Gail's lips had touched.

"Savor the cheek kiss, Johnny! That's the only action you'll be getting from her..." George laughed.

"Sod off, Harrison! Why don't  _you_ kiss my cheek? The one that's  _not_  on my face..." John retorted.

~~~

Back at the studio, there appeared to be a respite. Ringo practiced his drums, Gail absentmindedly scrubbed the equipment. 

And George pointed it out. " _Gail_!" 

"Goddamnit!" she groused. 

John sat mirthlessly in the corner, eyeing her from afar. Paul then walked up to him, subtly consoling him with his presence.

"Why's she gotta be so bloody adorable!?" John lamented.

"She  _is_  adorable, I'll give you that much..." Paul nodded in agreement.

"She actually had the nerve to say we're just friends, can you believe that!?" John mowed.

Paul rolled his eyes and groaned, "John, for Christ's sake, you and Gail are going to end up together! I know it, you know it, everyone knows it!"

John narrowed his eyes skeptically at him, "Well, what about _you_? How are things looking for you and  _your_  lady-friend..?"

Paul then eyed Isabel fiddling with her new camera. He grinned, chuckling to himself, "She's  _nice_...she's a nice girl..."

John raised a brow in slight intrigue at his mate's warm reaction.

" _I'm here..._ " a soft, posh voice unexpectedly uttered. 

"OH,  _FUCK_!!!" Paul suddenly exclaimed, horrified. 

Paul wasn't usually one to speak in expletives. John lightly chuckled in amusement, "You alright there, Paulie..?" 

" _No_ , the fuck I'm not alright!" Paul yelled in a hushed tone. "She was supposed to come  _tomorrow_!!!

"Who?" John asked.

All of a sudden, the exquisite Jane Asher showed herself.

Gail, immediately spotting her, glanced back at Paul and John menacingly, holding back a fit of rage. "You know what!? I'm not even  _fucking_  surprised..."

John held back laughter as his eyes twinkled, "Oh man, I'm  _scared_  for you, mate..."


	7. These Times

There Jane stood. As poised and perfect as she had ever been. Her presence was such that she need not say much, her elegant stature already spoke volumes.

" _Jane_!" Paul announced her arrival to everyone in the room, his frightened eyes betraying the energy in his voice. "What are  _you_  doing back so early..?"

Jane chortled, "Silly Paul! You know I have my book club with the girls every Wednesday!"

"Right..." Paul anxiously rubbed the back of his neck. "So, um,  _why_  are you here..?"

"Oh, Paul!" Jane chortled harder, her musical lilt reverberating throughout the entire studio. "You almost act as if you aren't happy to see me! I'm meeting the girls here in a moment -- Mo thought it would be nice to pay you lads a visit!"

" _Oh_ , how grand..!" Paul uttered. He attempted to sound thrilled, but instead sounded more like a dying animal.

"Oh, come here,  _you_..." Jane beamed as she approached her beloved with an extended pout.

" _There's someone I'd like you to meet_!" Paul's voice cracked as he panicked, preventing his girlfriend from coming closer.

Standing innocuously in the background, John brought his hands up to his mouth and laughed in a silent, giddy fashion.

Jane's face then twisted into a frown, "Oh..?"

Isabel, who had taken her eyes off her camera for the first time in an hour, stood paralyzed, trying to camouflage into the scenery.

"Yes, Isabel, come on over here, dear!" Paul called out to his new resident bird.

Wordlessly, Isabel moved past the crowd that was fast forming around the couple. John, mouth agape, was shocked and impressed at his friend's gall.

"Isabel, meet Jane!" Paul stated with confidence.

Jane's eyes narrowed in suspicion as she sized her up. As Isabel reached out to touch her hand, she couldn't help noticing how truly sylphlike Jane appeared up close. She was sophisticated, classy, graceful, svelte. She was very obviously Paul's significant other.

"How nice to meet you," Jane expressed flatly. "And  _who_  are you, precisely..?"

"She's staying at  _our_ place for the time being," Paul explained bluntly, attempting to grin his way out of the conflict.

At this, Jane snapped. "Oh? And how do you propose _that'll_  work?"

"Well, you know what they say! Three's a crowd!" John giggled.

" _JOHN_ , shut up!!!" Paul cried, suddenly incensed.

"You know, I won't hesitate to move back in with my brother, Paul..." Jane threatened.

"No! Wait! That's  _not_  necessary..." Paul stopped her nervously, tugging at his collar. "Please, just let her stay with us. She means no harm!"

"Ah, yes. She's a little lamb who's lost in the wood, is  _that_  it?" Jane's soft, refined voice pierced the air.

After a long, uncomfortable pause, Gail unfroze from her spot and opted to get the hell out of the vicinity. Alas, her grace failed her and she tripped on Ringo's drumstick. Her caterwaul could be heard across the studio as she stumbled.

"Whoops! I was wondering where I left the bleedin' thing!" Ringo chuckled sheepishly as he bent down to retrieve the mallet.

"Um, Jane, you remember Gail, don't you!?" Paul blurted out frantically, his face reddening with instant regret.

Gail once again froze, briefly eyeing Paul, plastering an eerily wide smile on her face.

Upon spotting Gail, Jane elevated her eyebrows in a flash of fury, pain and recognition. In a way only Jane could, she was able to keep her cool.

"Why, yes, I believe I recall. Though, I must say, I never did understand everyone's fascination with the... _secretary_..." she stretched out the word and it slithered off her tongue like a snake.

"She  _does_  know I'm right here, right!?" Gail muttered loudly to no one in particular, her eyes narrowed in disgust. "And for your information,  _Miss Asher of the Lavish_..."

"Alright, ladies! Let's all simmer down just a touch!" Mal quickly entered to break up the scene, restraining Gail gently.

"No, wait! I'm not through speaking to her yet!" Gail yelped. "You see, Jane, I'm a  _writer_..."

This retort was met with perhaps the most worn out reaction yet, George's exasperated groan permeating above all the others.

"You know, it's bad enough that you've been playing house in my absence, Paul. Now you mean to tell me Gail has gone back to sorting your files as well!?"

"Jane, I  _swear_ , it isn't like that! Gail just got here and Isabel..." Paul looked over to see Isabel with her head held down, downtrodden.

"I've heard enough, Paul. I'm leaving," Jane stated sharply. "Gail, if I'm in need of your  _aid_ , I'll let you know."

"Now,  _wait_  a minute!" Gail squawked.

"I'm  _here_!" Pattie Harrison gleefully declared. "What'd I miss!?"

"We're leaving, Pattie," Jane said curtly. "Miss Greene has returned to revisit some work at her office..."

Pattie gasped, her bright, blue eyes twinkling with excitement, " _Gail's_  back in town!?"

"It's like I never left..." Gail answered dryly, peering downward and clutching her stomach.

"Well, you should hang out with us!" Pattie enthusiastically suggested.

Gail grimaced, "Oh, I don't know..."

"Come on, Gail, we met at the banquet last year, and we never got the chance to form a friendship!" Pattie pointed out.

Jane nudged her head, "Pattie, let's go..."

"What are we in such a hurry for?" Maureen Starkey giggled, appearing from behind.

"Oh, you're here just in time, Mo! Gail Greene is back!" Pattie grinned and narrowed her eyes knowingly.

Maureen's eyes lit up as she beamed radiantly in Gail's direction, "Oh, my goodness, Gail! How've you been!? It's been so long..!"

Gail smiled tepidly in return, biting back her words with her front teeth, "Not...long enough."

Maureen, still beaming, then shifted her attention elsewhere.

"I like your camera!" she said, pointing to the Polaroid hanging around Isabel's neck.

Caught off guard, Isabel looked down at her contraption. "Thanks..."

"Girls, where did Cynthia go?" Jane asked, the mention of her name causing the room to subtly stir up.

"Oh, she stayed back because she had some cleaning and mother henning to do around the house," Pattie chortled. "You know how our Cynthia is!"

"So... _Cynthia_  won't be joining us..?" Gail asked, perking up anxiously.

"I'm afraid not," Maureen replied apologetically.

"...Oh, good to know..." Gail cleared her throat and glanced at John, proceeding to fan her piqued face. "Actually, I feel sort of sick..."

"Aw, well why don't we all come back to my place for some tea?" Maureen proposed empathetically.

"Um, is there not enough tea being stirred here by Gail already..?" Jane commented, maintaining her composure.

"Oh, come on Jane, it'll be great fun!" Pattie surmised. "It gives us all a chance to catch up and get to know each other better!"

Femininely furrowing her brow, Jane glanced over at Gail and then to Isabel, intently pondering. Eventually, her expression relaxed and her mouth twisted into a self-satisfied smile.

"Yes," she voiced in a vague yet decided tone. "You're right, Pattie. I see no reason why we can't all get along..."

In the background, Paul fell backwards with John holding him for support, both equally shocked and wordless.

"Great! We'll see you boys a bit later!" Maureen exclaimed in delight, winking, though it was unclear to whom the wink was directed towards.

Before Paul and John could successfully escape, Gail stopped them in outrage. She first turned stormily towards Paul, "You know, I should be  _furious_  at you for daring to put me in that position, but at this point I'm not even bloody shocked!"

In turn, Paul sheepishly rubbed his beet-red neck. "I know...you said that already..."

"Well, it bears repeating!" Gail shrilled.

John chuckled, " _Asher of the Lavish_ , that was a good one..."

"And  _you_ ," Gail turned towards John. "All you could do was just stand there, ghost-white, next to Paul! I would've appreciated a few measly words to back me up..."

"I don't know, I think you handled yourself rather well on your own. And a good friend knows when not to intervene," John nudged Gail slightly. "...Isn't that right,  _buddy_!?"

Gail narrowed her eyes, "You're pushing it, John. I'm not in the mood to be pushed..."

"Gail, please, I can promise you I didn't know Jane was coming today, I-"

" _Save_  it, Paul!" Gail spat, leaving them both in a huff.

Paul looked over at John, overwrought with shame and remorse, "I'm never going to be able to live this down, am I..?"

~~~

With everyone else now scattered out and the studio room all to themselves, the girls took a moment to gather their bearings and contemplate their next move.

While Gail could see that Pattie and Maureen meant well, even in spite of what seemed to be pure obliviousness, Isabel instead continued to feel sized up. Without having to know who she was, the girls could  _sense_  who she was. They knew Isabel's place in the pecking order, they knew she was on the boys' radar.

Pattie, especially, remained relatively still as she gazed at Isabel in both curiosity and wonder. All of a sudden, their eyes met and Isabel's heart skipped a beat.

"You are  _very_  pretty," Pattie declared, so distracted in her fixation that her statement almost sounded like an afterthought.

Slightly embarrassed, Isabel did not know how to respond. She simply stood there, awkward, speechless.

"She's right, you know," Isabel scuffled around in a stupor at the sound of Gail's straight, affirmative tone. "You're not like those gangly British girls you always see in the magazines..."

Isabel gulped. Still intimidated, but now mostly surprised by Gail's remark.

"Indeed," Pattie concurred as she nodded and tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Pardon me, I don't believe I caught your name, pet..."

"Isabel," Isabel stated plainly.

"Hm," Pattie grunted in affirmation. "Well, Isabel, what are we doing just dawdling here? Let's go get a manicure!"

Isabel instantly panicked and shied her hand away from Pattie's attempted grasp, turning pale white, "Um, no thank you..."

"Oh, come on! I insist! It's completely on me!" Pattie earnestly persisted.

"I'd really rather not..." Isabel stated firmly.

Pattie smirked and rolled her eyes, "Well, at least let me rub your hand with some lotion! It's sweet-smelling and shimmery!"

Reluctantly, Isabel stuck out her hand and obliged, her fingers gripped in a tight fist.

~~~

Now comfortably situated in the Starkey abode, everyone sat in near silence at different ends of the room, sipping their steaming beverages.

Pattie and Gail were the furthest from earshot, both sitting perched across from each other at a small table.

"So, is Paul good in bed?" Pattie abruptly asked.

Gail nearly choked on her tea in response, "We...never slept together..." she clarified incredulously.

"I only ask because I know you and Paul were seeing each other..." Pattie explained nonchalantly.

"Oh..." Gail froze in solemn. "You  _knew_  about that..?"

Pattie laughed, "Hon,  _everyone_  knew! And what a lucky lass you were to get the chance to step out with  _Paul McCartney_ of all people!"

Gail looked down for a moment, pensively, "...Say I  _had_  slept with Paul. Wouldn't that make me a  _whore_..?"

"Are you kidding!?" Pattie guffawed loudly, placing a light hand on Gail's shoulder. "Girl, I need to catch you up on some things...you can sleep with whoever you want! It's the  _sixties_!"

" _So I keep being told..._ " Gail muttered in bemusement.

"Think about it! We're all pretty birds, we deserve some side tail! The boys do it!"

"You can't get by just on your looks, Pattie. Granted, you're  _beautiful_ , but you might not stay that way forever...also, you're  _married_!"

Pattie simpered, shaking her head, "Gail, Gail, Gail. You're clearly not living up to your full potential! Being a woman is great! Men pay for your dates, you get everything handed to you!"

Gail looked down once more as she stirred her drink. Up until last year, she had been answering to men her entire life. This was the first time she truly felt like she could flaunt her independence, do what her heart told her.

"Come on, Gail. You seem like a free spirit!" Pattie coaxed.

"So everyone says..." Gail replied softly, absently, still stirring her drink.

"Well, you need to start acting like it!" Pattie fervidly proclaimed.

Gail sighed thoughtfully. Sure, she had been making certain strides in her career, and she had indeed cut quite a bit looser since she left EMI studios, and yet...

"-There was this party and John was all over me!" Pattie cut into Gail's trance, clearly in the middle of telling a story.

"Oh, he  _was_ , was he..?" Gail's eyes narrowed. As unamused as she was, she wasn't too terribly surprised.

Pattie giggled, "Yeah, that's his MO. He hits on all the girls but once he's back home with Cyn he can't keep his bloody hands off of her!"

At this, Gail tensed up.

Blondes were his kryptonite. Everyone knew. Suddenly, her mind flashed back to all the blondes he would pull back in the hey-day of Beatlemania. Her jaw clenched.

"And have you  _seen_  Cyn!?" Pattie eagerly continued. "I don't know what John sees in her! She's  _so_  dowdy!"

Gail didn't think so. She thought of Cyn as a curvy, bodacious Brigitte Bardot...

Pattie chortled, "Of course, even  _she_  looks good compared to Jane without makeup! Talk about a ' _Plain Jane_ '..."

Gail's eyes squinted with skepticism, " _Right_..."

"Not you, though. You're a  _hottie_!" Pattie grinned, wiggling her eyebrows. "I can see why the boys couldn't get enough of you..."

"I don't even understand why you're being so nice to me," Gail remarked. "You're friends with Jane, right? Shouldn't we be  _enemies_?"

In response, Pattie sighed, her face contorting into an oddly serious expression, "This is going to sound bad, but Jane is kind of used to it. I think she's only mean to you because she sees you as a bigger threat."

Gail sat back, her mind reeling from the bounty of information Pattie had just thrusted upon her.

"You guys have been talking a while..." Maureen smiled as she peered through the doorway.

"Yes, the tea has been quite hot today, Gail, has it not?" Pattie sneered, flashing a wink.

"Oh, no! I do hope you ladies didn't burn your tongues!" Maureen proclaimed in concern.

Gail rolled her eyes, "We're fine, Mo. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

~~~

As Gail scampered away, Maureen shot Pattie a look.

"What was  _that_  all about?"

"Oh, you know, just girl talk! Mentioned the boys, asked about her escapades, mentioned  _my_ escapades..." Pattie tittered, seemingly getting lost in what she was saying.

"Ugh, Pattie, you're  _so_  insensitive!" Maureen chided.

"What?" Pattie blinked out of her daze.

"You brought up the  _John_  thing, didn't you!?" Maureen presumed.

"He was  _all over_ me!" Pattie whined in defense. "It was a noteworthy moment!"

"Pattie, Gail had a thing with John!" Maureen shrieked.

"She  _did_!?" Patties eyes widened in shock. "How did  _this_  get past my radar!?"

"It was brief," Maureen steadily explained. "She left soon afterward..."

Pattie went white, suddenly understanding the implications of what was being said,  _"Oh_ ,  _sugarcubes..."_

"Speaking of the boys," Maureen deviously prompted, her face slinking into a smirk. "We should get back to them now..."

~~~

Back at the studio, Gail was now scavenging the surrounding nooks and crannies, utterly frantic and on edge.

Her eyes momentarily met Paul and John's gape, "Okay, where do you  _freaks_  stash the drugs!? I  _know_  you're doing it..."

John and Paul just stood there, staring wide-eyed at her.

"Ugh, never mind!" Gail scoffed, proceeding to trip on Ringo's drumstick again.

" _Sorry_!" Ringo hollered sheepishly.

"IF THERE'S ANOTHER GODDAMN MESS THAT'S LEFT UNCLEANED!!!" Gail raged, her body tense. 

Fed up, Gail once again stormed out of the premises. But before she could contemplate the best bush to kick...

"Um,  _Gail_..?" Gail was startled by a meek, mousy voice.

"...I-Isabel..?" Gail stammered, not knowing quite what to say.

Isabel nodded.

There was a brief pause. "...H-How long have you been out here..?"

"I'm  _always_  out here," Isabel stated simply. "But I was actually looking for you..."

Gail crossed her arms tightly in discomfort, "Oh, you  _were_..?"

Once again, Isabel nodded, "Do you want to come back inside? It's getting dark and you already missed the sunset..."

Baffled at how to respond to that, Gail merely shrugged and obliged.

~~~

Now face to face, Isabel sucked in her breath and forced out the question she had been dying to ask.

"Gail, what can you tell me about  _Paul_..?"

There was a long, uneasy silence.

" _Paul_?" Gail's voice raised an octave, then lowered as she spaced out her words. "I can tell he really likes you..."

Isabel bit her lip as she continued to nod, somewhat unconvinced, "What about  _Jane_..?"

 _What's it to you!?_ Gail resisted the urge to bite back with a scathing rhetorical question.

Instead, she took a deep breath and found herself saying, "She...shows up when you least expect it..."

Still nodding, Isabel delicately asked, "C-can I ask you something else..?"

 _You just did._ Gail thought. But again, she held her tongue.

"Go ahead," she responded, looking downward, not meeting Isabel's eyes.

Isabel nervously wrung her hands as she spoke, "Well, it's just...I've been having a lot of trouble fitting in with the boys...and I notice that you generally get along so  _well_  with them, and I--"

Suddenly, shockingly, Gail began to laugh. In an instant, her prior standoffish demeanor melted away.

"They're  _sweet_  boys..." Gail mused with a sigh.

Confused, all Isabel could do was stare at her. It seemed she was always having an outburst of some sort.

"I had trouble fitting in, too, at first..." Gail confessed, her tone now calm and sincere.

Intrigued, Isabel leaned in closer. " _Really_..?"

Gail nodded, wiping a tear away as she chuckled, "I used to be  _so_ scared of the boys...I would hide in my office all day until they went home."

Isabel blinked in disbelief. While it was clear Gail and the band had their differences, she could tell that deep down they loved her; they  _adored_  her. It was nearly impossible for Isabel to fathom a time when Gail didn't have the boys wrapped neatly around her finger.

"But once you're around the boys for too long you start to act... _different_ ," Gail continued. "They have very... _strong_ personalities. So, I had to develop an even stronger one to deal with them. I used to let them get away with everything and then I ended up with  _nothing_..."

Isabel appreciated Gail's honesty. It felt like a heavy weight was being lifted.

"I was once quiet like you. Now I can't shut up!I'm just like  _John_..." Gail rolled her eyes as she continued to chuckle.

Isabel then took pause. Her lips began to quiver with regret as they formed a new sentence, "John doesn't like me..."

"Ah, he's giving you the cold shoulder, too, is he? That's typical..." Gail shook her head, smirking, "But John  _does_ like you, I can tell!"

"Not as much as he likes  _you_..." Isabel hoarsely retorted.

In response, Gail became flustered and giggled inadvertently, her cheeks turning a bright pink.

" _What_!? That's silly!" she snorted. "He and I literally can't go two seconds without snipping at each other..."

Isabel grunted, "Well, all I'm saying is that John melted like butter as soon as he laid eyes on you. I hadn't seen him act that way until you got here..."

Gail half-smiled, "Don't let John intimidate you from hanging out with them. He only gives you a hard time because he wants to get to know you better..."

Then, her smile turned slightly somber, "There are  _many_  sides to John. You just hope he gives you the side that loves you..."

Isabel took a moment to process what Gail was saying. She still wasn't sure she believed that John liked her. She wasn't even sure if she was worthy of being liked at all.

"You can't always give them exactly what they want. You need to remember that these are boys who haven't aged past 17...they have  _wanking_  contests!" Gail explained with a sneer. "In truth, they may act larger than life but deep down they're just like any other group of people. Don't let them scare you into submission!"

"Wow, thank you, Gail!" Isabel's eyes sparkled. She didn't have the words to express her gratitude at the advice, though she did blush slightly at the wanking revelation.

"No problem!" Gail smiled reassuringly. "It's okay, you'll find yourself in time..."

"I hope so..." Isabel said softly. "So, is there anything else I should know..?"

Gail's hazel-green eyes then abruptly expanded in response to Isabel's question and she felt a pit growing in her stomach.

"Nope! That's it!" Gail replied quickly.

Isabel nodded slowly, discerning whether or not to push the topic further.

"Gotta go!" Gail sputtered, zipping past Isabel.

~~~

She only made it a few steps before running into someone. George, who was apparently privy to the entire conversation, addressed Gail with a knowing smirk.

Gail sighed and shook her head in lament, instinctively reading his wry expression, "I was supposed to tell her to stay away from Paul. Have I not learned a  _thing_ , George?"

George said nothing but continued to smile in endearment, causing Gail to smile endearingly back at him.

All of a sudden, Gail heard a shuffling from behind George. Then, out of nowhere came a flushed and giggly Maureen.

"Where did you go, love? Are you done playing chase with me in the closet?" she nibbled on George's ear, seemingly oblivious to Gail's presence.

"I'll be there in a minute, doodle bug!" George breathed in, slightly embarrassed at the scene she was making.

"Alright, love," Maureen gazed at him seductively as she detached herself and slinked away. "You know where to find me! Don't keep me waiting, jelly baby!"

Gail's face was frozen in a shell-shocked position. It was now clear she had witnessed far too much.

"...Bugger, George!!! What the hell was  _that_!?"

George sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, "Oh...you  _saw_  that..?"

"George!!! What the bloody hell are you thinking!?!?" Gail exclaimed incredulously. "Maureen is  _married_...to your  _best_   _friend_!!!!!"

"Sh!" George frantically covered Gail's mouth with his palm, the walls were terribly thin. "Ringo's in the next room! Have you no  _shame_ , Gail..?"

"You obviously know I  _don't_ , George, and neither do  _you_!" Gail retorted.

"It's completely casual," George reasoned, attempting to swallow his nerves. "Ringo won't mind. It doesn't even mean anything."

" _Now_  who's in denial..?" Gail smirked, rolling her eyes.

"Gail, you have to  _promise_  me you won't say anything to him. Promise..?" George pressed his hands together, deeply biting down on his lip.

Gail shook her head, "You know, I didn't think you were actually capable of this, George..."

George shrugged, "Eh, it's the sixtie--"

"I  _know_  what decade it is!!!" Gail tersely interrupted him. "I swear, the most offensive thing about this is those nicknames..."

~~~

As the night finally began to wind down, Gail ventured toward John and Paul.

"Aaaalllllllright, it's been an  _emotional_  day!" Gail announced as she turned to them, a dry yet oddly cheerful brand of exhaustion tinting her voice. "It was nice seeing you guys again!  _Biggest_  mistake of my life but I regret nothing! I sincerely hope you both have a great life..."

Before anything on Paul and John's end could be said, Mal came running in with an urgent message.

"Gail, there's someone on the phone for you. An Alec Reed..?"

"Oh,  _shoot_!" Gail uttered. "I'll be right back!"

Inquisitively glancing at one another, Paul and John followed Gail out to the kitchen phone.

"Mhm. Uh-huh. Well, that's a little contrived, isn't it..?" she briefly eyed John and Paul, then her eyes frantically began to widen. "Oooh, we're really  _not_  on the best terms right now!" she then sighed a bit dejectedly. "Okay..."

Gail walked back up towards John and Paul.

"Well, looks like I'm  _staying_!" she cried, her odd, paradoxical cheeriness returning to her demeanor.

"What do you mean, you're  _staying_?" Paul asked tentatively.

"Reed caught wind that I was back at EMI and he wants me to get some ' _inside scoop_ ' on the Beatles..." Gail explained uneasily.

Paul and John just stared blankly at her.

"I was  _told_ , not asked..." Gail clarified somberly.

"I'm not sure how I feel about this, Abbie..." John began.

"Come on, guys, it's  _fine_! You know I wouldn't publish anything embarrassing or private without your permission...it's just, Reed is writing a book about the band and he needs intel! This could be my big break!" Gail reassured John with enthusiasm.

"What about your  _big_  novel..?" John asked, his eyes narrowing.

"It's  _coming_!!!" Gail shrilled reflexively. "Besides, it can't be  _that_  hard to write little fluff pieces about you guys..."

"Hey, we're complicated young men!" Paul piped up in defense. "You can't possibly know all there is to know about us!"

"I worked for you tossers for  _three years_ , you'd be surprised..." Gail dryly retorted.

"We still have refined tastes, Abbie!" John teased with a wink. "We have obscure interests you couldn't possibly possess any knowledge on..."

"But you like  _blondes_ , though, right?" Gail remarked bitterly. 

John raised a quizzical eyebrow at her, "...What is  _that_ supposed to mean?"

Gail then promptly began to visibly panic, realizing he thought she was referring to his wife.

"Gail," Paul spurted abruptly. "About today..."

Gail crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes as she turned towards him, "Yes, I'm listening..."

_~~~_

Paul was distinctly quiet when he and Isabel arrived back at St. John's Wood. Jane had asked to take his car and drive around a bit, presumably to clear her head, and said she'd be back in a bit. 

During that time, Paul would not leave his piano alone. He kept tinkering with a tune, restlessly, repeatedly, attempting to achieve an elusive satisfaction. 

Meanwhile, Isabel hid in Paul's spare bedroom. She noticed a shimmer from the lamp light catching on her hand and she realized it was from Pattie's lotion. Sighing, she remembered her kindness and regretted not taking up her offer on the manicure. 

Isabel then thought back to what Gail had said regarding her looks -- she had stated it so matter-of-factly with no trace of double-meaning or bitterness. And then Gail had started to open up to her about the boys, and she acted like she genuinely understood and wanted to help Isabel's situation. Perhaps, Isabel thought, she had been wrong in her assumptions about Gail...

Just then, Paul began to play his tune again and Isabel listened closely. This time, he sang as he played.

 _Your day breaks, your mind aches_  
You find that all the words of kindness linger on  
When she no longer needs you

_She wakes up, she makes up_

_She takes her time and doesn't feel she has to hurry  
She no longer needs you_

_And in her eyes you see nothing_

_No sign of love behind the tears_  
Cried for no one  
A love that should have lasted years!

_You want her, you need her_

_And yet you don't believe her when she says her love is dead  
You think she needs you_

_And in her eyes you see nothing_

_No sign of love behind the tears_  
Cried for no one  
A love that should have lasted years!

_You stay home, she goes out_

_She says that long ago she knew someone but now he's gone  
She doesn't need him_

_Your day breaks, your mind aches_

_There will be times when all the things she said will fill your head  
You won't forget her_

_And in her eyes you see nothing_

_No sign of love behind the tears_  
Cried for no one  
A love that should have lasted years!

Isabel bit her lip. It was unclear whether this song was about Jane or Gail -- she was certain it had to be at least one of the two.

Suddenly, Isabel heard a door slam shut, indicating Jane's arrival. Isabel pressed her ear against her side of the wall and peeked uneasily at the commotion. Unfortunately, it seemed as if Jane requested to Paul that they talk outside. Isabel waited breathlessly for a few long moments.

When they finally reentered the household, Jane's uptight manner had not yet diminished. 

"I tried my best to be understanding before, Paul. You're out on the road, you meet many a bird, you have needs. But I won't stand for this disrespect any longer."

Paul gulped, red-faced, unable to find the right words to defend himself. 

"Tell me there's nothing going on between you and Isabel," Jane ordered. " _Then_ she can stay." 

Paul's head hung low, he recited softly, "... _There's nothing going on between me and Isabel_." 

"Now look me in the  _eyes_  and say it," Jane enjoined.

As Paul repeated these inexplicably heart-wrenching words to Jane, Isabel felt a lump grow ten sizes in her throat. 

Deeply concentrated, she found herself gnawing mercilessly at her fingernails. She mindlessly scraped her chewed up nail against her teeth. Finally, she was able to bite down and pull back a long piece of nail, an action that immediately filled her mind with euphoria. She knew what she was doing but she couldn't stop. She was deep in a zone. 

"Thank you," Jane said. "I'm going to bed now. Goodnight, Paul."

"Goodnight, Jane..." Paul responded as he sank into the couch, an absent gaze painting his features.

Despite everything Isabel had just overheard, she felt compelled to sit next to Paul and comfort him. She wiped away the puddle of drool that had formed around her chin and she took a few quiet steps towards where he was seated.

Looking up, Paul's eyes filled with remorse and he immediately looked away. He couldn't stand the sight of Isabel's sweet, innocent face at that moment. 

Isabel bit her lip shyly, cutely. Paul's heart couldn't take it. So many different emotions were flooding over him at the same time and he just couldn't take it.

" _Paul_..." Isabel uttered in her meek, soft-spoken, irresistible way. Paul's toes curled, his fists clenched. He couldn't show any attraction, any sign of caring, it would end up being too painful for the both of them.

"Paul, I  _know_  today could've gone better..." 

Isabel recoiled at her statement. It sounded so  _lame_ , so obvious. She wanted to say something truly meaningful and comforting, but nothing of substance was coming out.

Paul exhaled slowly, the excess blood finally beginning to drain from his cheeks, "Yeah..."

Isabel glanced down for a moment before continuing, "I just want you to know that...you can  _come_  to me. You don't have to put up a front or act like something you're not when you're around me. I just want you to feel comfortable being  _you_."

Paul wanted badly to tell her that she felt the same way about her, that she needed to listen to herself and follow her own words of wisdom. 

Instead, he looked stoically to the side. "That's  _nice_ , Isabel..."

"Things will get better," Isabel's fingers throbbed painfully as she spoke. In the back of her mind, she wondered how optimistic she truly was about this situation. "And I'm sure once you and Gail sort things out--"

"THERE'S  _NOTHING_  TO SORT OUT!!!" Paul suddenly snapped, smacking the small table in front of him.

Isabel flinched, shocked and hurt at the unexpected blow. She backed away slowly.

"... _Sorry_..." Paul choked out hoarsely. But it was too late. In the blink of an eye, Isabel disappeared into the night. 

Ashamed of himself and absolutely livid at how everything had transpired, Paul stretched his legs over the couch and laid on his back. As soon as he closed his eyes, his mind wandered to an earlier part of the day...

_"Gail," Paul spurted abruptly. "About today..."_

_Gail crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes as she turned towards him, "Yes, I'm listening..."_

_Just then, as Paul nervously opened his pursed lips to speak, Jane appeared at the doorway._

_"It's time to go home, Paul!" she spouted mirthfully, putting her arm possessively around her flustered boyfriend's shoulder. "It was so nice to see you again, Gail!"_

_Gail's entire complexion turned red as the painful, vivid memories flooded through her head yet again. Angry, bitter tears threatened to fall, but she wouldn't dare give Jane the satisfaction of letting them flow out in front of her. Her fists tightened as she ran off._

_"Gail, wait!!!" Paul cried, still flushed with dismay._

_Time froze. Paul's eyes met Gail's, fleetingly and frantically, and he saw nothing. From the black hole of her gaze, he knew he would never fully be forgiven._

~~~


End file.
